


Slinkys, Stuffed Animals and Thou

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse), Vera_DragonMuse



Series: Slinkysverse [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, the importance of toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera_DragonMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bofur watched the Professor walk by the toy shop every morning, lost in thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The email arrived with a soft ‘ding’ as Bofur was attempting to coax an old metal Slinky back into its original shape. He set it down with a sigh of relief, pulling over his laptop. Even if it was spam, it would at least be a momentary distraction from his monumental boredom. 

It wasn’t spam. 

_thorin.oakenshield@gmail.com **summer plans** March 15, 2013 8:55am_

Bofur frowned, clicking the message open and scanning the contents quickly like one might look over a field in search of a land mine. Finding it as clean as it could be, he read it through. It wasn’t a terrible proposal really. 

He glanced at the clock. 9:05. Time for the Professor and sure enough, there he was walking by the shop window. It must have been chilly since the man had added a scarf to his usual thick brown jacket. Every day for the last three months, Bofur had watched him go by at 9:05 on the dot carrying a cup of tea (the paper end of the tea bag hung from the travel mug). Each day, he considered waving or attempting to connect in some way. Each day, he wound up just watching. 

There was nothing particularly special about the Professor (he looked sort of academic and he walked in the direction of the campus, so Bofur felt justified in the nickname). He seemed more caught up in his head than in the world. Certainly he never noticed the hole-in-the-wall toystore with it’s whirligigs and automated marble runs in the window. 

No, nothing special about the man’s slightly upturned nose or chestnut curls. Bofur admired the trim figure as it pushed by his shop without a glance. Nothing special at all. 

With a sigh, he opened a reply to Thorin. He could see the entire dullness of the day stretching before him. Though he opened the shop early, there wouldn’t a customer until the schools let out. So he’d tinker a bit, clean down the countertops and eat his lunch alone. 

The distinct sound of metal charging headlong into concrete rattled through the windows punctuated by a sharp cry of distress. Bofur was outside before he had time to think about, scanning the area as if the enemy was approaching. 

Instead, he found the Professor laying on the sidewalk, looking dazed and a cyclist tangled up in his bike not far off. Edith from the coffeeshop across the street was already hunched over the cyclist. Bofur dropped to his knees next to the Professor. 

“You alright?” He asked. 

“That boy practically ran me over.” The man blinked up at Bofur, clearly dazed. He sounded British, a pleasant respite in a sea of twanging American vowels. “I spilled my tea.” 

“Are you hurt though?” Bofur prodded. “Is your vision blurry?” 

“I’m fine.” With a groan, the Professor struggled upward. Bofur offered him both hands, hauling him to his feet. The Professor was a startling short man, probably only five two or five three judging by how he came up to Bofur’s nose. “Bruised.” 

“Your hands are bleeding.” Bofur still had possession of said hands, turned them over to find gravel and dirt embedded in the palms. “I’ve a sink and first aid kit in the back of my store if you’d like to clean up.” 

“Dr. Baggins, I’m so sorry!” The cyclist had staggered to his feet, helmet crooked on top of his head. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live, no thanks to you.” Dr. Baggins (Bofur congratulated himself on a good deduction) pulled away his hands and straightened his jacket. “Why weren’t you watching where you were going?” 

“I was, sir! Only you sort of came out of nowhere. Didn’t see you and then there you were.” The cyclist wrung his hands together. “I really am sorry.” 

“Oh, it’s fine. Stop looking so miserable.” Frowning at his hands, Dr. Baggins glanced over at Bofur. “Is the offer of a sink still available?” 

“Of course. I’ll throw in some antiseptic cream as a bonus.” 

When they approached the shop, Dr. Baggins came to a complete stop, 

“This is your store?” 

“Mostly, yeah. My brothers are silent partners.” Bofur opened the door, the waft of warm air reminding him of how cold it was outside. 

“You always have such interesting things in the window.” 

“Thought you didn’t notice.” Bofur admitted before realizing how that must sound. “Sorry. Only you walk by every morning and its my slow time. I people watch.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Baggins looked more amused than offended, so Bofur counted it as a win. “My mind is usually on my lectures in the morning, but my head isn’t completely in the clouds.” 

“You work at the college then?” 

“Yes.” Stepping into the shop prompted a small smile on the Professor’s face. “Teaching archeology mostly though I’m meant to be putting some papers together.” 

“Publish or perish?” 

“Yes, exactly. Though I’m tenured, so it’s not quite so dire these days. More like publish or fade into obscurity.” He looked around curiously as Bofur led him into the back room. There wasn’t much there, just Bofur’s worktable scattered with toys in progress, a few boxes of parts and the tiny kitchenette. “You have a repair shop back here?” 

“I suppose you could say that.” Bofur fished around the shelves to find the first aid kit. “I build most of what I sell, but I like restoring old things too.” 

“You mean all those things in the windows? Those are your designs?” The professor fiddled with the taps, then stuck his scrapped palms under the water with a hiss. 

“Yep. They’re not really practical, but they bring people in the door.” 

“Are toys meant to be practical?” The question was sincere enough without the edge of sarcasm a lot of grown men used when they talked about Bofur’s work. 

“Sure. Good learning tools for one though that’s the boring bit. Mostly they should be easy for kids to take apart, put back together and use however they want. The rigs in the window only do what they’re designed to do and they have a ton of pieces.” He found the white and red case, popping the lid open. “Here we are. Turn up and I’ll have a look.” 

“Thank you, I’m sure I can-” 

“It’s your hands, Dr. Baggins. Hard to bandage up on your own unless you’re ambidextrous.” 

“Bilbo. You should call me Bilbo. You’re hardly my student, after all.” 

“Ah, your parents had a grudge too?” Bofur gently took one of Bilbo’s hands to smear the antiseptic cream over the scratches. “I’m Bofur. Run of strange names in my family.” 

“Mine too.” Bilbo smiled faintly. “Terrible names passed down from generation to generation. Inherited along with the antique bureau.” 

“Would you...I could make some tea.” He offered as he secured a bandage over the worst of the cuts. “Seeing as you lost yours.” 

“Oh, that’d be nice, but I’m certainly already late.” Bilbo squeezed Bofur’s hand before backing away entirely. “Thank you, for your kindness.” 

“No delay, I promise. The water is still hot from my morning cup.” He gestured at the electric kettle. “Milk and sugar?” 

Before Bilbo could protest, Bofur had out a travel mug and tea bag. 

“Just sugar.” Bilbo allowed, that faint smile never leaving his lips. 

“Here, then.” Dashing in sugar and water, Bofur sealed the lid and handed it over. “Too cold out there to go without.” 

“Thank you. Again.” Bilbo glanced around the backroom a last time as if committing it to memory. “Have a good day.” 

“You too.” Bofur watched him go with a slight pang.

That decided it. If he was going to get attached to random strangers in the street, it meant he’d been alone too long. He went back to the counter and replied to Thorin’s e-mail. 

_From: Bofur Bainson_  
To: Thorin Oakensheild   
Subject: re: summer plans 

_T,_

_Will take the bratlings for a few weeks as long as you promise to pay for any damages. How is it possible they’re both nearly grown? Weren’t they babies just a few minutes ago? I feel old. Which means you are ancient._

_With love,  
B _

He hit send before he could think too much more about it. It’d be nice to have Fili and Kili about for a month or two. They were a handful, but they would shake him up a little from his stupor too. With a sigh, he turned back to the Slinky. It had to give in eventually. 

Hours later, lunch come and gone, the Slinky had won. Luckily, customers had arrived to distract him from his losing battle. Tina, a regular, was explaining to him how she had rebuilt one of his Chinese yo-yos into the outline of a castle while her mother priced out a surprise birthday gift over her head. A few other children lingered by the dollar jars, picking through plastic action men and marbles. When the bell rang over the shop door, Bofur barely registered it. 

“And then I did this!” Tina tugged on one ribbon and the yo-yo did indeed fold into something that looked a bit like a castle. “Isn’t that cool?” 

“Absolutely.” He grinned at her. “If you cut off a bit of a box, you could color on it then put the castle in front of it. It’ll look like scenery.” 

“Hm.” She absorbed this suggestion. “I already have a dollhouse though.” 

“Say goodbye Tina.” Her mother called out, giving Bofur one last secretive wave. 

“Goodbye Mr. B!” She collapsed her toy back into her pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

“Bye, Tina.” He waved her off and was about to check on the boys giggling over the marbles when someone cleared their throat. Bofur glanced around and finally spotted Bilbo standing only a few feet off. “Hello! Sorry about that. You weren’t waiting long were you?” 

“Only a minute or two. I wanted to return this.” He held up the travel mug. “And say thank you again.” 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” Bofur took the mug back. “How are you feeling?” 

“Sore.” Bilbo shrugged. “I’ll live.” 

“You should stop by tomorrow morning.” Bofur declared. “So I can be sure of it. I feel medically responsible for you now. I’ll make tea.” 

“I...” Bilbo stared at him. “What?” 

“Way I see it, you treat a man’s wounds then you should make sure they don’t get infected.” It was a stupid thing to say, but it was the best he had come up with. It wasn’t as if he’d been thinking about what he’d say if Bilbo came back. Well. He had, but apparently nothing good had come of that thinking. 

“Right.” Bilbo pursed his lips. “Well. Can’t have you failing in your Hippocratic Oath on my account. I’ll come around at eight-fifty.” 

“Good. Yes.” Bofur nodded solemnly. “Eight-fifty it is.” 

He watched Bilbo walk out the door and back into the street. 

“Who was that, Mr.B?” One of the boys asked, marbles spilling to the floor around his feet. 

“A friend.” He grinned as he stooped down to help pick them all up. 

 

Bofur’s morning commute consisted of pulling on clothes, then walking down a steep staircase. In acknowledgement of his guest, he’d run a comb through his hair, divided it into two braids and chosen a sedate Batman t-shirt instead of one of his many brightly colored alternatives. Probably best not to sear the man’s eyes first thing in the morning. 

He turned the closed sign to open at the front door, unlocking it. At eight-fifty precisely the bell rang out. Bofur waited, but didn’t hear a tread on the old wood floors. Bilbo just appeared in the doorway to the backroom. 

“Do your feet touch the ground?” He asked incredulously as he poured hot water into his own mug, a bright red mug that smugly proclaimed ‘your prince is in another castle’, and a more sedate white and blue mug that seemed appropriate for a guest. 

“Generally that is how one walks.” Bilbo took the mug. 

“You’re silent though.” 

“Talent of mine. Developed from long years of living with light sleepers.” 

“Wish I had that. I clop around like a herd of buffalo. How’s the hands?” 

“Fine. Sting a bit. I have a really spectacular bruise on my elbow though.” Taking a sip of tea, Bilbo wandered to the work table. “What is this?” 

“Eventually it will be a model dragon kit.” Bofur picked up one of the wings he’d cut from balsa wood. “Not quite the shape I want it yet. I’m basing it off a few old model airplanes. It’ll make a good stocking stuffer.” 

“Why a dragon?” Bilbo leaned down to examine the head, flat and unpainted on the table. 

“Why not? Once I finish it, I’m tackling a griffin next and a pegasus. They’ll fly properly too.” He smiled, more to himself than at Bilbo. “Tina thinks I should do monkeys, but I think that might be copyright infringement. I’ll probably be onto wheels again after this anyway. I haven’t made a car in a while.” 

“I once worked on a site in Greece where we found a little terracotta horse with wheels.” Bilbo stroked a delicate finger over the dragon’s head. “There was a loop to tie a string through. 4th century and they were doing just what you do now. How little changes.” 

“Is that you specialty? Greek stuff?” 

“No, actually. Don’t specialize in a place exactly.” Bilbo glanced at Bofur as if accessing him. “You’ll probably laugh.” 

“You’re standing in my toy shop.” Bofur pointed out. “I’m not in a position to mock another’s career choices.” 

“Hmm. Well.” Bilbo took another sip from his mug. “I am the international leading scholar in smoking.” 

“Like...cigarettes?” 

“Yes, but those don’t leave much evidence so it’s generally more on hookahs, pipes and the like. I wrote my dissertation the Greeks though, particularly the use of smoke in oracular rituals.” He tapped the flat dragon head. “Reckon they saw a few of these in their time. They were half out of their heads most of the time, the poor dears.” 

“Huh. Sounds interesting.” 

“If you like minutiae. Which I do.” Biblo glanced at his watch. “Thank you for the tea.” 

“You should come again tomorrow.” Bofur said as casually as he could. “Nice to have company first few minutes of the day.” 

“Oh.” Bilbo pressed his lips together and for a moment, Bofur was sure he’d gone too far. “I...yes. I’d like that quite a bit, actually.” 

The next morning, Bofur set the alarm a little earlier and went across the street to buy two chocolate croissants. Edith eyed him speculatively as she passed the bag over. 

“One of your brothers visiting?” She asked. 

“No.” He handed her a wrinkled five. 

“Uh huh. You sly dog.” 

“It’s not like that.” He held out his hand for his change. “Just a friend.” 

“Please. Three years as neighbors, I think I’d notice if you had the kind of friend that visited first thing in the morning.” 

“Can’t I make a new friend without announcing it to the whole street?” Bofur wiggled his fingers. “Change?” 

“It’s that professor, isn’t it?” She finally opened the cash register. “Saw you talking to him after the crash yesterday. Haven’t you been ogling him for months?” 

“I don’t ogle anyone.” He took the coins from her. “You know, if I walked down to Starbucks they wouldn’t gossip.” 

“Yeah, but then you’d have to eat their stale pastries.” She shrugged. 

“Curse your logic.” 

Bilbo took the offering with the first real smile Bofur had seen on him. It was a good smile too, wide and warm. 

“It’s utterly ridiculous, a grown man getting this excited about sugar.” Biblo licked a stray bit of chocolate off one fingertip. “But I’ve always had a terrible sweet tooth.”

Edith stopped commenting on Bofur’s new routine after the first two weeks. Instead they got to talking about other things as she rang him up. Mostly about the local music scene that Bofur knew next to nothing about or casual gossip about everyone else on the street. Between their chats and tea with Bilbo, Bofur’s mornings became downright sociable. 

“Who’re you with there?” Bilbo asked one warm April morning. It had taken Bilbo nearly a month to find the pinboard full of pictures that Bofur had hung by the stairs. He had taken to asking about the photos one at a time as if rationing the stories Bofur had to offer. 

“Thorin.” Bofur hesitated, then figured it was now or never really. “My ex.” 

“Oh?” Bilbo’s eyes went wide and he looked over the photo again. “You’ve mentioned him before. Are you still friendly with him?” 

“Most of the time.” Bofur watched Bilbo carefully, but saw nothing negative there, only faint surprise and renewed curiosity. “It’s hard to hate him. He’s...magnetic. One of those people, you know?” 

“Like a cult leader?” 

“Heh. Maybe a little, but not so intense. Or organized. Man could lose his keys from the kitchen to the front door.” 

“You lived with him?” Bilbo asked, his face back to the impassive mask he wore most of the time. 

“We were together the better part of a decade.” It sounded odd out loud. Nearly ten years and Bofur was left with little to show for it: a handful of pictures, occasional e-mails and lately a series of stilted phone calls to organize the boys’ visit. “Shared a flat in Manchester.” 

“You moved here when you broke up then? Three years ago.” 

“Yep. From Dublin to Haifa to Manchester to New England. My nomadic life.” 

“Haifa?” 

“My father was Israeli. I lived with him for a few years when Mom got sick of having too many boys in the house.” 

“Did you like it?” 

“First few months it was like I’d moved to the moon, but once I got a bit of Hebrew going, yeah I liked it well enough.” He shrugged. “I might have stayed if I hadn’t met Thorin.” 

“In Israel?” 

“London. It was sort of a family reunion.” He watched Bilbo’s face try not to twitch into horror. “He’s my third cousin, removed a few steps.” 

“Oh.” Bilbo laughed. “Sorry, silly of me. So you moved in with him then?” 

“Well not directly, but eventually.” 

“America is a bit far to run for an amicable break up, if you don’t mind me saying.” 

“Wasn’t running.” He paused. “Not exactly. My brothers had come out this way already, making a go at it in the restaurant business. Thought it’d be nice to live close again. Which would’ve worked out just fine if the restaurant hadn’t failed. They’re back in Dublin now and here I am.” 

“Quite a story.” 

“Eh. It’s less dramatic than it sounds.” 

“I’m sure.” Blibo snorted. “Look, this might be...could I ask you a rather large favor?” 

“Long as it doesn’t involve grave digging.” 

“Why would- no, never mind. No graves. Only I’m going to a conference over this weekend and my colleague who usually feeds my cats just told me she’s going too. Would you...I don’t live far from here really.” 

“Of course.” He smiled.” That’s not such a big favor. You have cats? You never have a lick of fur on you.” 

“I’m very good with those sticky rollers.” 

Bilbo’s house proved to be a cozy cottage only a ten minute walk from the shop. Bofur took to it immediately, pleased with the antique furniture covered in mounds of paper and books. The cats eyed him suspiciously, a pair of tiger striped toms with the unlikely names of Merry and Pippin. 

“They’re really my cousin’s.” Bilbo explained, scratching under Merry’s chin. “Her new husband is allergic, so I’m keeping them for now.” 

“How long is for now?” 

“Two years and counting.” Bilbo said ruefully. 

It was strange letting himself into Bilbo’s house when the man himself was absent, but the walk in the morning was pleasant enough. After the second day, the cats realized that his arrival meant breakfast and took well enough to him. 

Bilbo returned with a new twinkle in his eye, invigorated as he talked a blue streak over their morning tea. He talked about Egyptians and America until Bofur’s head was pleasantly spun in circles. 

“I should thank you for taking care of cats.” 

“What?” The change in topic threw him a little. 

“You’ve been so kind and well. Dinner, maybe?” 

“I...yes. That’d be nice.” 

“Have you tried the Chinese restaurant on Rye Street?” 

“No.” 

“Seven then. Tonight?” 

“Alright.” Bofur grinned. “Yeah.” 

It’s not a date, he reminded himself as he traced the sidewalk away from the darkened storefront to the restaurant. Bilbo had taken a table in the window, his skin dyed odd shades of blue from the fishtank behind him. He wasn’t a beautiful person, thin lipped and slow to smile, but Bofur could have watched him for hours. 

Instead, he went inside and took the empty seat. 

“I think you should know,” Bofur took a crisp from the bowl, dragged it through the spicy mustard, “that I would very much like this to be a date.” 

“Good.” Bilbo’s chopsticks struck the empty plate before him in punctuation. “Because it is.” 

They shared an order of kung pao chicken, fried rice and a meandering conversation about good meals they’d had around the world. 

“The phyllo dough melted in your mouth.” Bilbo assured him, leaning a little too far forward. His sweater had a grain of rice stuck to it and there was a flush dusted over his cheeks. “This custard was sweet and thick. Lovely.” 

“Yeah.” Bofur closed the remaining inches to brush a kiss over those thin lips. “It is.” 

“Oh.” Bilbo blinked. 

And then smiled. Broad and pleased as a cat with the cream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys of summer arrive and bring with them scent of an oncoming storm.

The airport was stale in Bofur’s mouth. He waited impatiently at the bottom of the escalator, checking his watch too frequently and ignoring the book he’d brought with him for distraction. It had only occurred to him on the way here that he barely knew the boys anymore. Maybe they really had grown up into the hooligans Thorin jokingly called them. Maybe they didn’t much remember their Uncle Bofur and were just eager to get away from home for a bit. 

He bit at a cuticle. 

“There he is!” Someone whooped, disturbing the low level irritated mumble of the airport. 

“Uncle Bofur!” 

He opened his arms out of pure instinct and was rewarded with two bodies slamming hard into him and nearly taking him to the ground. His first impression was only of too much hair, getting everywhere and strong arms embracing him. 

“Enough of that.” He laughed, pulling away. “Let me have a look at you.” 

They weren’t boys anymore. At seventeen and nineteen, they were tall and broad shouldered with thick ponytails, mirrors of fair and tan. Fili had a reasonable goatee and Kili’s cheeks were stubbled. They grinned at him, identical spreads of teeth and charm. 

“It’s good to see you.” Fili said. “We’ve missed you.” 

“You’ve grown.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have recognized you.” 

“I’m taller than Fili now.” Kili rocked on his heels, looking eminently pleased with himself. Fili just rolled his eyes. “We’re supposed to go to baggage claim four.”

“Lead on then.” 

Their baggage consisted of four worn duffel bags and the hard case of a guitar. Kili scooped up the hard plastic deftly before handing it off to Fili. 

“Yours or his?” Bofur asked. 

“Technically it’s mine, but he steals it all the time.” Fili hefted a bag onto his shoulder. “We’re both sort of learning as we go.” 

And there was something in Fili’s movement, the liquid bend and adjustment to the added weight that through Bofur back through time. 

When he had first met the boys, they were small tornadoes rampaging through a family dinner. Neither of them could sit still for more than a minute, racing around the living room with plastic swords, nerf balls and lego. The rest of Thorin’s family were a hard, solemn bunch. Nervous and a little intimidated, Bofur had spent the entire evening with the boys. When Kili had at last fallen asleep in a pile of blocks, it had been Fili that reached down and picked him up as tenderly as a parent. 

Now Kili was too big to carry and Fili showed him no quarter, tossing bags at him to jigsaw together in the trunk. In the sunlight, they could have been any other teenage boys, laughing and elbowing at each other. A fierce and unexpected electric shock of possessiveness came over Bofur. They weren’t just any boys, but his. Thorin had practically had partial custody of them considering how often Dis and her husband traveled for work. It had often been Bofur tucking them into bed with a story and a song, making them breakfast and driving them to school. 

“Are you going to put us to work?” After going through an arcane and complex version of rock, paper, scissors, it was Kili sliding into the passenger seat while Fili slumped into the back. “Uncle says you need help around shop.” 

“Not sure I have enough for both of you, really. Though it’d be nice to have some time off from minding the counter. My friend Edith has a coffee shop and she said she’d be willing to take one of you a few hours of the week.” He glanced at them. “Have you been working?” 

“Have you met Uncle?” Kili rolled his eyes. “I’ve been running barback at Dwalin’s place for two years and Fili graduated to pulling beers six months ago.”

“The bar?” Bofur snorted. “Wholesome young place for boys.” 

“Could be worse.” Fili shrugged. “Gives us a bit of pocket money anyway.” 

“Well, no bars while you’re here. I don’t care if you drink, but don’t get caught at it. They’re weird about their drinking age here.” He merged into traffic and headed for home. “I’ve got the spare bedroom set up for you above the shop. Sorry to squeeze you into one room.” 

“Used to this one.” Fili cuffed Kili lightly on the back of the head. “Be weird trying to sleep without his snoring.” 

“How is Dwalin anyway?” Bofur asked quickly, slicing through what he predicted might be a long fight on the existence of Kili’s night breathing issues. 

“All right.” Both boys went suspiciously quiet, eying each other frantically through the rearview mirror. 

“What?” He pressed. “Has he killed someone? Wouldn’t put it passed him really.” 

“No.” Kili sank down in the seat. “Nothing like that.” 

“He and Thorin are trying again.” Fili mumbled.

“Oh fuck me running.” Bofur groaned. “You can’t be serious?” 

“They’ve got a better case together this time and a new lawyer. Old experienced guy supposed to be practically magic.” Fili scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s a nightmare. The entire apartment is filled with all those boxes, pushpins everywhere.” 

“He’s mad.” Bofur merged onto the highway and faster than advisable speeds. “No one will give him the funds to make a real go of it.” 

“Your brothers did.” Kili piped up. “And Balin, Nori and Ori...the whole gang practically. You know how Uncle is and everyone really thinks they have a shot this time.” 

“Why didn’t-” Bofur began than stopped dead. He knew exactly why Thorin hadn’t told him. “Well. And what do you think of it?” 

“Erebor should be ours.” Fili said firmly. “It’s been the family business for centuries. Everyone knows what Smaug did was illegal and he should be brought to justice.”

“Yeah.” Kili echoed. 

“Good on you then.” It wasn’t as if Bofur actually disagreed, but the boys were too young to get embroiled in the old battle. 

The conversation turned to mutual relatives and acquaintances, the mood in the car softening again with nostalgia. By the time Bofur was pulling in behind the shop, Kili was explaining something about lacrosse while Fili dozed in the backseat. 

“Up and out.” Bofur announced. 

“Ugh.” Fili scrubbed at his face. “I could sleep for a week.” 

“Better if you don’t. Stay up until bedtime if you can, that’ll straighten you out faster.” He popped the trunk, then headed in to check one last time that he hadn’t left any egregiously dirty or awful out in the open. 

Just as it had been for the last three days, the apartment was spotless. The guest room still had two twin beds in matching blue Target linens and new matching curtains around the lone window. The room had been Bifur’s for a long time, the marks from his habit of leaning back in his office chair still scarred the floor. 

“This ours?” Kili asked and Bofur had get of the way of the fast line of bags and bustle. 

Before he had any time to wallow in nostalgia, Kili was at his back and pushing him gently to one side to begin unloading and Fili was fast on his heels. Within minutes, the room seemed stuffed full of their clothes, books, the guitar propped under the window and their emptied luggage pushed mostly underneath the beds. 

“That’s done then.” Fili clapped his hands once, a gesture Bofur recognized from their mother. 

“Show us the shop.” Kili demanded. 

“It’s small.” He warned. 

“It’s perfect!” Kili decreed as he jumped over the last three stairs, giving the workroom only a cursory glance before barreling into the shop. 

“That’s interesting.” Fili gravitated to the worktable, picking up one of the model griffins. “Does it fly?” 

“Sure. Test it from the top of the stairs if you want.” 

“Marble runs!” Kili shouted from the shop, followed by the soft click of one the displays whirring into life. 

“I think he should take the shop job.” Fili laughed. “I love all this stuff, don’t get me wrong, but Kili will fit right in with the customers.” 

“I can see that.” Bofur ducked his head around the door, smiling when he saw Kili rapt at the window. 

The shop occupied the boys for an hour, then there was a jaunt over to the coffee shop where Edith took Fili’s measure and deemed him acceptable. Bofur fed them pizza for dinner, laughing at their pleased consumption of three pies and then a pint of ice cream each. 

“You’ll eat me into poverty.” 

“Can’t help it.” Kili grinned. “We’re growing boys.” 

Bofur let them have free reign over the television and wasn’t at all surprised when they started to nod off around eight. They managed to stay up another hour or so before admitting defeat and retiring. Even asleep, they added something to the apartment. The mere knowledge that the other bedroom was occupied soothed the stubborn knot of loneliness that tied his chest tight when he was home. 

Shutting the door to his own room, he fished his cell out of his pocket. The line on the other end only rang twice before Bilbo picked up with a sleepy, 

“Hello.” 

“You can’t already be in bed.” Bofur tsked, falling backwards onto his own. “It’s a Friday night, you know.” 

“After a very long Friday.” Bilbo sighed. “Two lectures back to back and then a staff meeting. We discussed budget cuts and drank burnt coffee.” 

“Poor man.” Bofur smiled at the ceiling. 

“Judging by your terrible attempts at sympathy, I’m guessing your nephews are well?” 

“They are, actually. Sort of ridiculously tall and too close to being men for my comfort, but what can you do? They seemed happy enough to be here though.” 

“I told you they would be. A summer walking in toy shop is certainly a better offer than I ever had as a boy.” 

“Maybe. We’ll see if Kili feels the same way when I put him to work doing inventory.” He shifted a little. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” 

“But I'm too young to be married, milord.” Bilbo said primly. 

“Piss off.” Bofur laughed, listening to Bilbo chuckle at his own joke. “You’re terrible.” 

“Yes, but whatever you ask next will surely be less heart attack inducing.” 

“I suppose. Look, was just wondering if you wanted to come out to dinner with us tomorrow? I don’t feel right leaving the boys on their own the first few days until they’re used to the place, but I don’t want to go without seeing you.” 

“I see.” There was a pause. “And how would you introduce me to them?” 

“Uh, is this an etiquette quiz? I think we’ve established that I fail those on principle.” 

“I only meant...” Bilbo sighed. 

“Oh.” Bofur blinked up at the ceiling, pieces falling into place. “Oh! As my boyfriend, of course, you dolt. What do you take me for?” 

“They’re your family, I wasn’t sure if-” 

“I’d introduce you to my mother if she were still alive. She’d have loved a clever man like you. Always after me for not going to college, you know.” She had been disappointed when he went into a trade, but the money had never been there for anything else and he wasn’t a good student. “Anyway, the boys would suss out I was seeing someone soon enough and they’re too nosy not to figure out who. Rather just be out in the open about it.” 

“Yes, I can see how that would be preferable.” 

“So, you’ll come then?” 

“I...what if they don’t like me?” 

“Why wouldn’t they?” 

“Because I’m not much like you, my dear. It works between the two of us, but with others?” 

“Hey now, I got on with your professor friends well enough, didn’t I?” The evening should have been hell, but as it turned out one of Bilbo’s graduate students was writing a paper on the life of children during Victorian England. She’d picked Bofur’s brain about period appropriate toys. After that ice breaker, it had been pleasant all the way around. “It’ll be fine.” 

“All right then.” Bilbo relented. “But if they hate me, I reserve the right to say I told you so.” 

“As you like.” Bofur grinned at the ceiling. “So. What are you wearing?” 

“Fourteen layers, two pairs of shoes and a nightcap.” 

“Sexy.” Bofur laughed. “I always liked a man who knew how to layer.” 

“I’m miserable at phone sex. Anyway, it’ll only make it more annoying that you aren’t here.” 

“I know what you mean. I should let you go back to sleep anyway.” 

“Mm. One last thing though?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Where are we eating?” 

“You pick. The boys’ll be impressed with anything.” Bofur grinned like an idiot. “I trust you with my stomach.” 

“With a great deal more than that, I think.” Bilbo must have shifted in his bed, the rustle of fabric enticing enough even without the visual. “Sleep well, my dear.” 

“And you.” 

Bilbo chose wisely, a barbeque place new to town and trying hard to please the college clientele. The boys fell upon the feast as if Bofur hadn’t fed them in days instead of only hours ago. Bilbo watched with suppressed pleasure, for even if he ate a little slower and with more dignity, he certainly ate nearly as much. 

“So how’d you meet Uncle Bofur then?” Fili asked as Kili tore the meat from his last rib. 

“I was mowed down by a rogue cyclist in front of his shop.” Bilbo sipped slowly at his water as if there weren’t a stack of cleaned bones piled on his plate. “He bravely performed first aid.” 

“That’s lovely. Very romantic.” Fili grinned slyly at Bofur, who kicked him lightly under the table. “And you’re a professor? All lectures and writing and stuff?” 

“Most of the time. Sometimes I get out and have a bit of an adventure in the field.” Bilbo picking up the knife, tip down, idly spinning it as he talked. “Egypt, Brazil, Greece... I haven’t gotten to India yet, but I’m working on proving a trade link between there and Egypt. With a bit of grant money, I might make it yet.” 

“So you’re Indiana Jones then?” Kili looked up from his plate, eyes wide. 

“Not even close.” The knife flickered light over Bilbo’s face. “The sites I work on aren’t nearly as thrilling and I’ve never worn a fedora. I prefer a wide brimmed straw hat. But it can be exciting.” 

“I’ll bet.” Fili watched the knife with a still expression. “Wouldn’t mind catching a lecture or two if you’ve room.” 

“There’s always room.” The knife went still and Bilbo blinked at it as if he wasn’t quite sure what he had been doing with it, then he set it gently down. “Are you going to uni?” 

“Nah.” Fili dropped his gaze to his plate. “Family business for me. No point wasting time pretending anything different.” 

“He’s good with numbers.” Kili put in, a flash of something like melancholy passing over his face.

“Just better than you.” Fili teased. “Not exactly hard.” 

“Hey!” 

The walked back to the shop afterwards, Fili and Kili going on ahead and chattering about something Bofur couldn’t follow. Instead, he offered Bilbo his arm and was warmly grateful when it was accepted. 

“They’re good kids.” Bilbo said softly. 

“I know.” Bofur smiled at the back of their heads, watching as their jostled at each other. “I’m proud of them, even if I haven’t had much to do with it.” 

“You have. They respect you, you know.” 

“Nah. They never really did. Love me, maybe, but respect they saved for Thorin and rightly so.” 

“What weighs on them so? For light hearted lads, there are such shadows under their eyes.” 

“You noticed?” Of course Bilbo had noticed. Bilbo was observant at just the worst times. “It’s...well. Very complicated.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“No. I do. It’s a part of who I am now, even if I don’t like it much.” He waited until the boys pulled further ahead. “I met Thorin when I was in my early twenties, but I knew of him my whole life. We all did. The extended family. His grandfather owned Erebor, a mining company that specialized in rare gems. Everyone worked for him in the family. Some of my first memories are of sitting next to my Da as he appraised sapphires, letting me play with them as if they were penny toys. 

“I was only seven when it happened. I’ve never been good with legal details, but a larger company proved prior claim to more than two-thirds of Erebor’s mines. Thorin’s grandfather contested, of course, but the other company was run by a real snake of a man, Ben Smaug. He came in with this crowd of lawyers and before I turned eight, Erebor belonged to him. We were all turned out, of course. Thorin’s grandfather passed away not long after and his father managed three more years. Heartbreak, people used to say they died of. 

“I never thought much about it growing up. I had only been a child and neither of my parents struggled too hard to find another job though not ones that paid nearly as well. Thorin though...it consumed him. Started studying business law in his spare time, burying himself in the details of the case. When he was nineteen, he tried to raise a suit against Smaug. It dragged out three years in court, left him even more broke. 

“When I finally met him, they had found against him only a few months before. I didn’t know what he’d been like during the bad times, only that the man I met was fierce and strong and stunning. I would have followed him anywhere and when he led me to his bed, I thought I was the luckiest man alive. 

“Two years of peace, we had. I fell in love with him and his family. We got a nice place together, made all sorts of plans while we both ran ourselves ragged to make ends meet. I had no idea that a storm brewed inside him.” Bofur kicked at a loose stone. “What a foolish boy I was.” 

“Love makes fools of us all.” Bilbo nudged him. “So things went wrong, I assume.” 

“Yeah, you could say that. It wasn’t an all at once thing. First it was just a few newspaper articles clipped out and hung above his desk. Then a handful scribbled notes. Then string and pushpins and books piled up around him like a fortress. He had a new lead or a new way in, every week brought fresh news. 

“And each week I thought ‘This will pass.’ Then he stopped coming to bed. Stopped talking to me over breakfast. Stopped kissing me when I came home from work. It was as if everything, but Erebor ceased to exist for him. And the worst part was that anyone I complained to took his side. His sister, his brother-in-law, our friends.... even my own brothers. They believed in him, believed that he could bring back Erebor and with it prosperity.” 

“You didn’t.” 

“I did.” Bofur sighed. “That’s the worst of it. I believed it then and I believe it now. I just never thought it was worth the sacrifice of everything else. I’d been happy living lean with him. Getting rich never appealed to me. I don’t want gold or gems. Just a nice place to come home to at the end of a long day. Took me six years to sort that out.” 

“Did he understand why you left?” 

“You know that was the worst part.” Bofur felt the stab of it all over again. “I’d been gone three weeks before he’d noticed. He called me up, asking me where I’d gotten to. ‘I’ve left you.’ I told him. And do you know what he said?” 

“No idea, but I’m going to guess I won’t like it.” 

“Probably not. He said ‘oh. I was wondering why the dishes had been piling up.’” Bofur snorted. “Once it was obvious I wasn’t coming back, he did make more of an effort. He loves me, I think, even now. Just the actual having of me was never a priority.” 

“I can’t understand that. I’ve only been with you a short while and I already feel you are quite indispensable.” Bilbo squeezed Bofur’s arm gently. “And the boys?” 

“They’re his heirs.” Bofur covered Biblo’s hand his own. “He’s going to mount the new suit soon and he’ll want them close by. It’s a family mission.” 

“Why send them here then?” 

“A last respite.” The boys were doubling back now, realizing they’d gone too far afield and unsure of the way back. “Before the storm.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation, a date and a phone call bring on a series of new complications.

“...and I think you’re missing like sixty or seventy marbles but I am not recounting them. An estimate is the best you’re going to get.” Kili ticked off the last line on the wrinkled Excel print out. “So you’re only missing like one percent of your inventory? That’s pretty good.” 

“And most of that is probably just me forgetting to enter sales.” Bofur grinned. “Well, no thieves running about the place jacking handfuls of penny candy. Good to know. Thanks.” 

“It was way more fun than counting beer bottles.” Kili shoved the papers into a file folder and left it on top of the filing cabinet. Bofur didn’t blame him. The internal workings of the cabinet were mysterious even to Bofur despite having been the one that stuffed everything into it. 

“How about you go get lunch.” Opening the register, Bofur took out a twenty. “Pop by the coffee shop and see if Edith and Fili want something they didn’t bake.” 

“Thanks!” Kili was out the door before Bofur got the last syllable out. It was entirely possible that Bofur wouldn’t see him for an hour or more, but the lad had done good work all day. 

The shop returned to former its former silence with Kili gone. Bofur went through the week’s receipts to distract himself. It had only been a month and already he’d grown too used to having the boys around. They clattered around at all hours, laughing, fighting and falling over each other. After a few days, it had become clear that his joke about them eating him into poverty might be closer to the truth than he thought and he’d had to get a membership to a wholesale store. The shop basement was currently filled with giant tubs of mayonnaise and boxes of cereal. Neither of them were much for tidying up after themselves and everything in the apartment had taken on the pungent stink of too many young men in one place with poor ventilation. 

He’d miss them terribly when they were gone. 

“You look thoughtful.” Bilbo leaned over the glass counter. 

“One of these days, you really will give me a heart attack.” Bofur said once he’d recovered. “The shop door has a bell on it, I know it does.” 

“I came in through the back.” Bilbo grinned and set down a tupperware container. “I brought you wonton soup.” 

“Praise the lord!” He leaned over the counter to give Bilbo a lingering kiss. “What are you doing out of class, professor? Playing hooky?” 

“Exam day. They finished, handed in their papers and are now free of three weeks of tyranny.” The tip of Bilbo’s nose had gone appealing pink from his brief time out in the sun. He never really burned, but heat flushed him all over in a matter of minutes. “Where’s your hurricane?” 

“Gone to buy lunch and annoy his brother. He finished up the inventory today.” 

“Does that mean you’re out of busy work for him?” 

“Thought I might start leaving the counter for him to watch, actually. Give me more time to work on new merchandise. There’s a little magnetic train assembly I’ve been thinking about. And I can mass produce my fantasy animal kits.” 

“And have some time to steal away, I hope?” 

“That would depend what it’s being stolen for.” He propped his chin in his hand. “Billiards? Bingo? Brain surgery?” 

“Couldn’t think of a better third ‘B’?” 

“Band music? Belligerent swans?” 

“What about Bilbo Baggins?” Bilbo suggested with a laugh. 

“Banging Bilbo Baggins.” Bofur gave each ‘b’ a hard pop. “Now that does sound appealing. Right now?” 

“What here?” Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Really, my dear.” 

“Maybe not right here. Anyway, don’t we have a date tonight? One I am risking house and home for by leaving the boys along the entire night?” 

“We do. Though is it really technically a date anymore? When does dating cease to be dating and when does it become two people in a relationship spending time together?” 

“No idea. Don’t married people have Date Nights? Maybe after a certain point dates are just times when you declare you are making an effort to spend time together.” 

“Hm, but then why do we call courting ‘dating’. It’s misleading.” 

“Professor, how did you just make the very real possibility of sex into an academic conversation devoid of sexiness?” 

“Special talent.” Bilbo didn’t look concerned. “Anyway, you like it.” 

“I will admit to no such thing.” Even though Bofur definitely did. He liked it when Bilbo talked an idea around, looking at it in a new way. He played with language like it was the best of games and picked apart things Bofur had taken for granted. 

“Anyway. Yes, we have a date. Seven?” 

“Sounds good. I’ll bring my footie pajamas.” 

“As long as you don’t mind not wearing them, bring whatever you like.” Bilbo tipped his face up for another kiss, then shoved the soup closer to Bofur. “Enjoy. I’m going to head to the grocery store.” 

“Thanks.” 

He ate his soup, slurping down the broth since there was no one there to impress. Before long, Kili was back. Sweat had stuck his t-shirt to his chest and he’d gained a green bandanna somewhere to keep his hair off his face. He collapsed dramatically into the broken chair behind the counter. 

“It is a million degrees out.” 

“It’s eighty-two.” Bofur had appropriately donned his Iceman t-shirt for cooling thoughts and an old pair of cargo shorts that showed off more of his hairy legs than was strictly advisable. “Meant to go up to ninety tomorrow.” 

“Ugh.” Kili diagnosed. “Is there a freezer I can hide in?” 

“No, but there’s the community pool. If you go after work it shouldn’t be too crowded.” 

“Awesome. Didn’t bring a bathing suit though.” 

“We’ll figure something out.” 

Bofur took pity on Kili and sent him to reorganize boxes in the basement where it was significantly cooler. A crowd of parents swarmed the store around three and that kept him busy until six. Fili came in with the last of the customers, his hair pulled into a complicated knot at the back of his neck. 

“Is that a bun?” Kili mocked as soon as he saw him. 

“It’s keeping me from sweating balls is what it is.” Fili reached out and tugged at Kili’s ponytail. “If you don’t give me shit about it, I’ll do it for you tomorrow and spare you the sweat stains.” 

“There’s a pizza in the fridge, my number in both your cells and the emergency number is 911. Try not to do anything that I’ll have to explain to your mother.” Bofur locked the register and went into the workroom to wash his hands. “There’s beer in the fridge, but try to keep it down to a low roar.” 

“Can do.” Fili leaned in the doorway. “Is that what you’re wearing?” 

“What’s wrong with it?” Bofur fixed his braids in the mirror, smoothing in strands that had made their escape in the humid air. 

“You wear superhero t-shirts and sagging shorts on a date?” 

“The goal of a date is not to wear anything at all by the end of it.” Bofur pointed out. 

“Gross.” Kili hooked his chin onto Fili’s shoulder. 

“Thanks.” Bofur snorted. “Anyway, this is what I always wear.” 

“That’s what I mean though, you’re supposed to get all cleaned up and nice for dates.” 

“Eh.” He gave up on the smoothing and undid both braids. Dipping his head under the faucet, he shivered at the abrupt chill. “This is who I am. Why lie about it with tuxes and flowers?” 

“Thought relationships were all about compromise?” 

“What are you now? Oprah?” Flinging his hair back, he soaked the boys liberally and laughed an their identical protests. “Get back to me when you’ve had a successful long term relationship and we’ll talk.” 

Kili and Fili went quiet. Bofur shot them a look, “What?” 

“You used to dress up for Uncle.” Kili said quietly. “I remember that. On Friday nights sometimes. You had those black slacks and button downs.” 

“Did I?” Bofur ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the knots. He remembered trying to get Thorin’s attention toward the end of things, working hard to keep the dying relationship alive. What must that have looked like to two adolescent boys? 

“Sure. You had that aftershave too.” Fili added. “I liked that stuff. Smelled liked lime juice and cedar. Used to let me use some.” 

As soon as Fili mentioned it, the memory returned: Fili, truly a boy then, sitting on the toilet seat of their cramped bathroom and firing questions as Bofur shaved in his undershirt. The aftershave had been a gift from Dis for one holiday or another. Thorin had liked it, coming in close to catch the scent then rubbing his cheek against Bofur's in an affectionate nuzzle. 

“I must have left it behind when I moved.” He told them, but he remembered the green glass bottle. He’d packed it carefully and yet still found it smashed upon arrival, scent saturating a few other odds and ends. “Never could find another bottle of the stuff." 

“Were you ever happy with him?” Fili thrust his hand into his pockets, staring at the floor. 

Bofur had been waiting for the question since the boys had arrived or something like it. He had begun to think it wouldn’t get asked. Perhaps that they didn’t actually care or that they were satisfied with whatever answer Thorin had provided. No. Apparently they’d just been lying in wait or looking for the window. Though it had been Fili who asked, it was Kili who looked like he was listening intently, eyes keen on Bofur’s face. 

“I was.” He sighed. “I didn’t stay for ten years because I was martyr. Just in the end the bad outweighed the good by too much.” 

“You never showed that you were unhappy. Not where we saw.” Fili told the floor. 

“You were children. I wasn’t going to play it out in front of you. Anyway, there wasn’t much to see. It’s not all screaming and crying. Sometimes things just erode away from the inside out.” 

“I used to wish...” Fili glanced over at Kili, who shrugged then nodded as if in permission. “We both wished that you’d stayed.” 

“Ah, lads.” Bofur shook his head. “Don’t you think I wished the same sometimes?” 

“Did you?” Kili blinked as if the thought had never occurred to him. 

“You don’t walk away from ten years with someone and not leave something of yourself behind. I loved him. I love the both of you and your parents. It was terribly hard to leave.” He sighed. “If I thought I could stay without falling back into the same bad patterns, I would have.” 

“There’s this hole where you’re supposed to be.” Fili crossed his arms tight against his chest. “At matches and graduations. It’s weird and no one talks about it, but it's there.” 

“I’m sorry, boys.” His stomach sank. “I did the best I could.” 

“Growing up is really fucking hard.” Kili kicked gently at one of Fili’s boots. “We get it.” 

“Yeah.” Fili finally looked up, offering a tight smile. “We do. And shit! We’ve made you late, I think.” 

“Bilbo won’t mind.” Bofur smiled back encouragingly. “Hug?” 

“We’re too old for hugs to make things better.” Fili protested, but Kili had no such compunction, dragging Fili along with him for a three way embrace. “Ooof.” 

“Never get too old for hugs.” Bofur scolded when he could finally bear to release them. “One of the few things in life that are free and enjoyable.” 

The whole scene left Bofur grateful for the long walk to Bilbo’s house. The night air was still warm without being oppressive and the town was lively with families out for dinner. The garden around the cottage bloomed beautifully, throwing a hundred sweet smells into the air. The door had been propped open, the tinny sound of the radio pouring out. 

He found Bilbo in the kitchen though the cooking seemed done. Bilbo was staring out the little window at his garden, apparently lost in thought. An apple, one bite removed, hung limp in his hand. Bofur stood in the doorway, watching him. He had watched Thorin like that, intrigued by the line of his lover’s back as he hunched over his desk or at his work. Bilbo was different from Thorin in so many ways, but this was the one Bofur noticed the most. Even in stillness, Thorin managed to convey energy and action. His purpose hummed over his skin and filled the air with expectation. 

Not Bilbo. Bilbo had mastered the art of being truly quiet and at peace. He might be thinking a hundred things or nothing at all as he gazed out the window, yet none of it was betrayed in his body. It was restful, watching him. 

“Fireflies.” Bilbo said eventually, breaking the stillness. “A whole cloud of them in my roses. Come see.” 

Bofur went to his side, plucking the forgotten apple from Bilbo’s hand and setting it on the counter. Pressed close, Bilbo smelled like the apple, onion, chalk dust and sweat. Bofur put an arm around Bilbo’s chest, burying his nose in Bilbo’s curls. There were fireflies outside the window, dancing among the roses. 

“Pretty.” Bofur smiled. “Are they here every night?” 

“Mostly.” Bilbo tilted his head back to glance at Bofur’s face. “You must be hungry.” 

“We can watch a little longer if you like.” 

Bilbo did like. Fortunately, dinner was gazpacho and chicken salad, nothing ruined for staying in the fridge a little longer. As they ate, Bilbo told him about the next summer session class and the promising new grad student coming in September. In return, Bofur told him about the conversation with the boys. 

“Started to feel a bit like a runway dad by the end there.” Bofur sighed. “They were still so young when I left and they lived with us half the time. I feel like an asshole.” 

“You’re not.” Bilbo poured them both tall glasses of ice tea and pushed a cookie into Bofur’s hand. “You did the best you could, given the circumstances.” 

“I know that, I do. Just hard to remember when they’re acting like two kicked puppies.” The ice tea was sweet and the cookie a little salty. Perfect. “They were the closet I’ll ever come to have children, you know? It kills me that I might have fucked it up.” 

“You didn’t.” Bilbo put a hand on Bofur’s knee, squeezing lightly. “They love you, you took them in again when they needed it though they’re not blood kin of yours. That’s what they’ll remember in a few more years.” 

“Think so?” 

“I do.” 

“Hm.” Bofur brushed crumbs back onto his plate. “They also scolded me for not dressing up for our date.” 

“Did they?” Bilbo grinned. “And did you tell them that I prefer you in shorts?” 

Bilbo slid his hand further up Bofur’s thigh. 

“Didn’t want to scandalize them.” Bofur laughed. “But why don’t you remind me why?” 

They passed a sweet hour in the bedroom, the windows wide open to bring in the breeze. They discarded the blankets in favor of a sheet. Whispered conversation gave way to sleep before long with Bilbo’s head on Bofur’s chest and the curtains dancing over them. 

The phone rang and for a muzzy moment, Bofur thought it was the alarm clock and reached out to smack it into submission. 

“Hmm?” Bilbo sat up, rubbing at his eyes and fumbling for the phone. “‘lo?” 

The clock read 3:22. Bad news then. 

“Ok?” He asked, but Bilbo only shook his head sharply. 

As the call went on, Bilbo knotted the sheet in his empty hand. His ‘yes’ and ‘mhms’ turned to ‘when’ and ‘how soon?’. The most ominously, ‘did they have a plot picked out?’. Bofur, sensing that sleep would not be returning, pulled on his clothes and went into the kitchen to make coffee. Twenty minutes later, Bilbo came in and took up the offered mug, wrapping his hands around it like a lifeline. 

“My cousin Drogo and his wife drowned in a boating accident on the Thames last night.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Bofur said immediately. “Were you close?” 

“Very, when we were young. We both had a taste for adventure back then, rare in our family.” Bilbo shook his head. “He built that boat himself. They don’t know exactly what happened, but it was definitely mechanical failure. Why both of them were out...anyway. There are other family members, sisters and brothers even. They could take the boy.” 

“The boy?” 

“Drogo’s son. Good little chap. Frodo. He’ll be seven in a month. I always send a birthday present on.” Bilbo set down the mug without taking a sip. “He’s much more like Drogo and me than the rest of his family.” 

“Poor child. Awful to be orphaned like that. He must be devastated.” 

“I’m sure he is.” Bilbo licked his lips. “This is going to sound mad.” 

“What is?” 

“I want to take him in. It’s just- like you said before. It might be my only chance to raise a child. Frodo is a bright boy with a big heart and the rest of my relatives...they have broods of their own and not much money.” Dawn was creeping in, casting the kitchen in pale yellow light. “Would you...you like children, don’t you?” 

“I do.” Bofur put his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “I won’t leave you or anything ridiculous like that if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m going to need a lot of help. I don’t have much experience with kids. Getting him won’t be hard, I think they’d all be relieved, really.” He leaned into Bofur’s side. “I’ll probably live to regret it.” 

“I doubt it.” Bofur rubbed Bilbo’s arm. “You’re a good man, you know that?” 

Bofur lingered as long as he could, making breakfast while Bilbo made phone calls and offering suggestions. When it got on to eight, he helped himself to the shower and changed. He gave Bilbo a last kiss, an instruction to call if he needed anything and then let himself out. 

To his shock, Kili had already opened the store when he arrived and looked very pleased with himself. 

“You’re late.” Kili announced. “We’ll have to dock that from your pay.” 

“And how many of my beers did you two drink last night?” He sallied back, turning on the ancient air conditioner and listened to it rattle to life. 

“Just two.” Kiii stretched upward, yawning. “We watched a zombie movie marathon. Good stuff. How was your date?” 

“It was good. Bilbo got a bit of hard news this morning though.” Bofur started going through the jars of small toys, picking out strays and setting them to rights. “Been a death in the family.” 

“Hard luck.” Kili came around the counter to help. Apparently he had relented and let Fili have his way with his hair. It was tied in a knot at the nape of his neck, held in place by a rubber band. “He have to go back home for the funeral?” 

“Yes. And he’s coming back with a passenger.” An army man drowned among rubber insects. Bofur fished him out with two fingers. “Cousin had a little boy that Bilbo’s pretty fond of. No one else wanted to take him, so he stepped up.”

“Wow. Big move. You ok with that?”

“Not really up to me. Bilbo wanted him and he’ll raise him well.” 

“But you’re his boyfriend.” 

“Sure, for a few months. Hardly long enough for me to make huge life choices with him.” He set the army man back with his brethren. “From the sound of it, Bilbo was the best choice for a guardian.” 

“Still though.” 

“I think it’s good.” Bofur said firmly. “We’ll see how it goes from there.” 

They sorted quietly for awhile. It was soothing mindless work and Bofur made a note to lysol down the jars again. Smudgy fingerprints made for an unattractive display. 

“Are we still going to go swimming tonight?” Kili asked when they were nearly done. He sounded very young and little fragile. 

“Of course.” Bofur glanced at him. “All right?” 

“Yeah.” Kili smiled, a little weak at the edges. “I was just...it’s stupid.” 

“I doubt that. Out with it.” 

“I keep thinking that it’s not really fair. How life is all these stupid changes and every time you get settled, get happy, it all just shifts on you.” 

“It does.” Bofur set the last jar down. “But it happens the other way too. When things are bad, they’re just as likely to change on you and turn out good. As my Ma often said to me: This too shall pass.” 

“This too shall pass.” Kili repeated with a soft sigh. “That’s sort of depressing.” 

“And uplifting. That’s the point.” Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go over the register one more time and then I’ll leave you alone to run the place, how about that?” 

“Sounds good.” Kili was all sunny smiles again, not fooling anyone. 

“First, count out your change.” He opened the cash drawer, quizzing Kili as he went. Sometimes all you could do was deal in practicalities. This too shall pass, Bofur said to himself. This too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much talk of stuffed animals and Bofur gets a rude awakening.

The marble fell neatly into a bucket and Kili let out a ragged cheer. He’d been working on the rig for the better part of a week, after gaining Bofur’s permission to redo the window display. With quick fingers and an eye for gears, he’d made a lovely complicated machine.

“Well done.” Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. “Without a blueprint even.” 

“I just saw it in my head like this.” Kili watched in satisfaction as the marble rose again on the escalating bike chain. 

“Might make an engineer out of you yet.” 

“Nah.” Kili denied, even as he leaned further in, fidgeting with a reluctant gear. “Just having a bit of fun.” 

The phone rang and Bofur abandoned Kili to rescue it. 

“Hello?” 

“My dear, I have a rather large favor to ask you.” Bilbo sounded ragged. “I’ve double scheduled a few things and the nanny I hired won’t start until tomorrow. Do you think you could watch Frodo for me this afternoon? I’m sorry even to ask, but-” 

“It’s fine. Bring the lad over whenever you like.” Bofur had met Frodo only once in the two weeks since he’d arrived, but he hadn’t been any kind of holy terror. “I think I can find something to amuse him.” 

“You’re marvelous, thank you.” Bilbo let out a long breath. “This will all be a little easier come September when I can have him in school.” 

Bofur didn’t dare point out that school brought its own complications. Despite having no practice and being thrust into it rather suddenly, Bilbo had done well with Frodo in those first hard days. He had kept the introductions to new people very limited, stayed home to make sure Frodo had time to become acquainted with the house and gardens and helped him to unpack all the boxes from home into his room, so that he would be surrounded by familiar things. It would be callous to say anything disheartening at the moment. 

“You’re doing well.” Bofur said instead. “One day at a time.” 

“So they say.” Bilbo laughed, a little unsteadily. “We’ll be there in a half hour.” 

“See you then.” Bofur agreed. 

The door the shop rang furiously, signalling Fili’s return. Kili made him watch a run of the marble machine, gathering his brother’s effusive compliments like a bee in a rose garden. 

“You two off to the pool then?” Bofur asked when they seemed to be winding down. 

“Yeah.” Fili clapped Kili on the shoulder, edging him forward toward the stairs. “Supposed to rain tomorrow, so best to run off some steam today.” 

“Do a few laps for me. Might have a wee guest when you get back, so try not to stampede in, alright?” 

“Sure thing.” They were gone again, stomping up the stairs and challenging each other to races. 

Bofur settled himself back at the cash register, sliding home the plywood cutouts of dragons into the thin paper sheaths that had been delivered the day before. He liked the look of the kits and figured they’d make a good profit, especially if he could sell the small plastic pots of paints to go with them. 

He waved to the boys as they ran out, Kili’s hair flying free of Fili’s careful attentions and waving out behind him as a dark banner. Bofur smiled into his work, stacking another completed kit on the table. 

“Hello, my dear.” 

“You know,” Bofur said conversationally, “one day you really will give me a heart attack sneaking in here like that.” 

“Doubtful.” Bilbo laughed, shifted a little and now Bofur could see that he was carrying Frodo, the boy’s curls mashed into Bilbo’s shoulder. “He still hasn’t quite adjusted to the new time zone. Keeps saying he doesn’t need a nap then crashes out. Come now, my boy. We’re here.” 

“Are we?” Frodo blinked and then flushed scarlet. “Uncle Bilbo! I don’t need to be carried.” 

“Well you wouldn’t wake up.” Bilbo set him down, watching as the boy took in the shop with his devastatingly wide eyes. 

“Nice to see you again, Frodo.” Bofur came out from around the counter. 

“This is your store?” Frodo asked, already walking down the rows of jars, touching each one with a single finger. 

“It is.” 

“Cool.” He turned to the marble display, instantly hypnotized. 

“Will you be alright here?” Bilbo asked, not quite hovering over Frodo. 

“It’s fine.” Frodo glanced over it his uncle then away again. “An afternoon isn’t a very long time.” 

“You’re right, it isn’t.” Bilbo smiled, a little tightly to Bofur’s eyes. “I’ll see you shortly.” 

For the first time in memory, Bofur actually heard the bells ring as Bilbo went through the door. Bofur went back to his work behind the counter, keeping on eye on Frodo as he drifted around the store. He was a cautious child, but a curious one. He picked up many boxes, reading the print and shifting them around. Everything was returned to its proper place and nothing went uninspected. 

Eventually, his route brought him back to the counter. He eyed the items in the cases, breath clouding over the glass. 

“Would you like to see my workroom?” Bofur asked. Frodo started as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone in this new place. 

“Yeah.” Frodo straightened and visibly brightened when Bofur lifted the piece of counter that separated him from customers. “I can come back there?” 

“Absolutely.” Bofur gestured through the doorway into the back. 

“Never been in the back of a store before.” Frodo confessed, already inside. 

“Not much to look at.” 

The concrete floor and burnt coffee smell apparently didn't diminish Frodo’s delight. He toured the backroom with the same intense dissection he had given to the front. The bins of miniature fake foliage seemed to delight him in particular, taking out bits of ivy and spiky fake flowers as though each were a treasure. 

“Use those for doll houses and stables.” Bofur explained, squatting down to pull out another bin. “There’s animals to go with the foliage.” 

Frodo liked the wooden animals though again he didn't exactly play with them, so much as go through the bin comparing and contrasting. He seemed content to be on his own though he suffered Bofur’s presence without protest. When the shop bells rang, Bofur felt safe enough tending to his customers for a few minutes. One transaction turned into three and it was a half hour before he could check on Frodo again. 

The bins were all neatly back in their proper place, except for the little animals. A few of them were scattered before Frodo, but the boy wasn't paying them any attention. He was crying, absolutely silently. 

“Ah, poor thing.” Bofur said quietly, kneeling down. 

“Sorry.” Frodo scrubbed his arm over his eyes, quick and furtive. 

“You don’t need to be sorry, lad. If anyone has cause for weeping, its you.” Bofur hesitated, but figured it couldn’t do any harm. “Would you like a hug?” 

Frodo blinked at him through tears and the boy’s eyes were even more ridiculous wet. He looked like the kind of child people drew romping around a meadow with fairy wings soaring over his back. He went easily into Bofur’s arms. He had been a loved child, never been given a reason to mistrust what was freely offered and he embraced with his whole heart. The hug comforted Bofur almost as much as Frodo. 

They stayed on the dusty floor until Frodo eased away, face sticky, but eyes clear. Bofur wet a paper towel and gave it to him to wipe away the last residue of tears. There was a damp spot on Bofur’s t-shirt too, but that was easy to ignore. 

“You know what I think,” he said when he was Frodo was mostly recovered and regained his dignity, “you should help me make something.” 

“Like what?” Frodo frowned. “I’m not good at putting things together.” 

“Hm, well, I haven’t worked on a soft toy in ages. Something squishy.” He reached upward, taking down bins of fake fur, stuffing and glass eyes. The last particularly interested in Frodo, who began pawing through them immediately. “What kind of animal should we try?” 

“A horse.” Frodo declared, almost immediately. 

“Never done a horse.” Bofur grinned. “That’ll be fun. Let’s choose a color for him.” 

Frodo chose a dark green fur for the body and they found a suitable bright blue for the mane and tale. Bofur showed him how to thread a needle and cut the fabric cleanly. Piecing the body together took some time, but Bofur was fast with a needle and soon they had something recognizably horse shaped. 

The shop bells rang and the smell of chlorine filled the air, sharp and strong. Fili came through first, stopping to say hello to Frodo before heading upstairs for a shower. Kili lingered, looking over the pieces of fur spread out over the table. 

“What are you making?”

“A horse.” Frodo said gravely. 

“A blue and green one?” 

“A sky horse.” Frodo amended. 

“Cool.” Kili decreed and Frodo’s smile burst wide open for the first time since he’d come into the shop. “Sky horse should have wings, shouldn’t it?” 

“If you can figure out how to make them.” Bofur gestured in the direction of the pile of fabric. “Have at it.” 

“Shouldn’t be that hard.” Kili went through the scraps, pulling out white felt with a few colorful pills from where it had sat too long between other bits and pieces. 

“Famous last words.” Bofur handed a needle to Frodo. “Thread this for me?” 

“Can’t find your reading glasses?” Kili teased. 

“Shut it.” 

It took Kili a few tries, but he did make a credible pair of fat white wings. With a little finagling Bofur worked them into the seam, so that they sat more or less flat on the horses’ broad back. The old sewing machine was pressed into a few creaky minutes of work. The job of stuffing went to Frodo with some minor corrections from Bofur lest the poor thing explode. Two fine green eyes and a bit of embroidery thread later and they had a chubby pony with a lopsided grin. One of his back legs was a bit shorter than the other three, but Bofur thought it gave him a bit of character. 

“There you are then.” Bofur fluffed his mane. “Now he just needs a name.” 

“Bill.” Declared Frodo. 

“Bill the flying pony.” Kili grinned. “I like it.” 

“Here you are then, lad.” Bofur plopped the animal into Frodo’s arms. “He’s all yours.” 

“Oh, no. I can’t. I’m too old for stuffed animals.” Frodo flicked a glance at Kili. 

“That’s not true.” Bofur said gently. “And you named the little fellow. Can’t do that and leave him here to his lonesome.” 

“It’s just a name.” Frodo set Bill back down on the work table, the boy’s cheeks pinking. 

“Hold that thought.” Kili declared and disappeared upstairs. They could hear his heavy tread through the ceiling. Seconds later he was tromping back down the stairs again, holding a yellow and orange mess in his hands. 

“You kept him!” The fur was tattered and the glass eyes broken into cataracts, but Bofur would have recognized the little lion no matter how battered he’d become. 

“This,” Kili said quite gravely, handing the worn out toy to Frodo, “is Roar. Uncle made him for me when I was eight and I’ve had him ever since. He keeps me safe when its dark.”

“You’re scared of the dark?” Frodo studied Kili incredulously. 

“Well, maybe not as much anymore.” Kili allowed. “But when I was eight, I was. See, I’d always shared a room with my brother and he was bigger than me. Big enough that I wasn’t scared of anything at night. Then we moved and Fili got his own room.” 

“And then you had to sleep alone.” Frodo frowned. “I’ve always had my own bedroom and I’m not scared of the dark.” 

“Well, you’re braver than me then.” Kili allowed. “I don’t like being alone much, so I keep Roar around just in case and I’ll be eighteen soon. So if I’m not too old, then neither are you.” 

Frodo looked into Roar’s cracked eyes and ran a finger over the brittle fur on his belly. Then he handed him gently back to Kili. He didn’t reach for Bill immediately, but when Bilbo appeared in the workroom a few minutes later, the first thing Frodo did was pluck up the pony and show him off. 

“Marvelous.” Bilbo decreed, inspecting Bill with a soft smile. “And you helped with this?” 

“I threaded all the needles.” Frodo told him. “And put in the stuffing.” 

“Could not have done it without him. If child labor wasn’t illegal, I would employ him immediately.” Bofur flicked a finger at Kili. “He could run circles around this one in tidying up the place.” 

“Hey!” 

“We should go.” Bilbo decided. He leaned in and Bofur obligingly brushed a kiss over his lips. “Are we still on for tomorrow night?” 

“Of course. I’ll bring dessert.” They had planned around Frodo’s bedtime for a date on the sly. Bofur tried not to look forward to it too much. He knew that it was still likely to be cancelled if Frodo had trouble getting to sleep or if Bilbo’s packed schedule gave way somewhere. 

“Excellent. And thank you for this afternoon.” 

“And for Bill.” Frodo added solemnly. 

“You’re most welcome.” Bofur watched them both leave, the bell not making a sound. 

“He’s a good kid.” Kili said in their wake. 

“So are you.” Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. “That was very kind of you.” 

“It was only the truth.” Tucking Roar under his arm, Kili managed not to make eye contact. “And maybe you could not tell Fili that I brought Roar with me?” 

“Our secret.” Bofur agreed. “Why did you cart him along anyway?” 

“Mom is always making noises about chucking him out. I figured if I left him there, he was a goner for sure.” Unconsciously, Kili clutched the lion a little closer. “It’s not like I sleep with him or anything weird. He just sits on a shelf.” 

“I remember when he went with you everywhere. Used to give him his own plate at dinner.” Sweeping up slivers of fur and fabric, Bofur hooked a foot around the wastebin to pull it closer. “You know, you left him behind once at breakfast and I came in to find Thorin holding a conversation with him.” 

“You’re making that up.” 

“No! I swear it. Eating oatmeal and carrying on a monologue about...something or other, I can’t recall anymore.” He smiled, watching the cascade of remnants tumble into the trash. “He has a whimsical streak, buried under all that seriousness.” 

“Maybe only you got to see that part of him.” Kili twirled a bit of orange mane around his finger. “He doesn’t smile much now.” 

“Why don’t you take your turn in the shower?” Changing the subject seemed the better part of valor. “Rinse off the chlorine and then we’ll sort out what to do for dinner.” 

The bell over the door rang, calling Bofur back to the counter. A few minutes later, the bathroom pipes banged to life overhead. He really had to get someone in to look at the rusty old things. Going through the familiar rituals of closing was lulling, smoothing away the ragged edges of emotion from the day. 

The pipes had long ago gone quiet though the steam from the shower still hung in the already overheated air as Bofur crested the steps into the apartment. They’d have to go out for food and get away from the insufferable heat. The window air conditioner in the boys’ room was making a racket, but they were uncharacteristically quiet. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d come back from the pool and passed out for a few minutes. 

Leaving them to nap a little longer, Bofur changed into a clean cool t-shirt under the attentions of his own a/c unit. They’d have to take a trip to the laundromat in the next few days. Maybe he’d offer to take Bilbo’s things too though the man had a washer and a dryer in his house. Bofur doubted Bilbo was keeping up with household tasks at the moment. 

Stomach rumbling, Bofur decided the boys’ had slept long enough. He had taken great care since they’d arrived not to barge into their room. They had already lost privacy bunking together, so he figured it was the least he could do. Normally they would throw the paltry lock on the door, maintaining their small bit of space. 

So it was to his great surprise that when he knocked, the door sprung open under his fist. That shock was quickly wiped away by the one that followed. 

The scene before him was twistedly familiar. When they were young, Kili had often piled into Fili’s bed and the two of them slept comfortably together. At ten, Dis had deemed Fili too old for such things and made sure the boy got his own room. Though of course when they came over to Thorin and Bofur’s, the boys were relegated back to sharing a cramped space. Often, Bofur would come in to wake them for school and found them in the same bed. He’d thought little of it then, all too aware of the night terrors that sent Kili looking for comfort that stretched the limits of a stuffed lion. 

Apparently their bodies remembered their old arrangements. Fili was sprawled over the sheets of his bed, a baggy pair of shorts low on his hips and his hair in a wild blond tangle over the pillow. In the crook of his arm, Kili had fitted himself with head on Fili’s shoulder and hand spread possessively over Fili’s chest. He had pulled on boxers after his shower and nothing else, his exposed leg thrown carelessly over Fili’s thighs. 

His knock had woken them, eyes slitting open and bodies sliding together as they stirred. It was Fili who saw Bofur standing in the door with his mouth gaping open. The boy sat up quickly, nearly dumping Kili to the floor. 

“I- sorry.” Bofur backed out, slamming the door behind him. The room behind him exploded into muted chaos of whispered shouts and clamoring for clothes. 

“Fuck.” Bofur announced to no one at all as his mind whirred uselessly. A hundred casual passing moments from the last few weeks cascaded together and gelled into a new picture. He slumped onto his couch and tried to come up with something useful, something smart to say for when the boys would finally emerge. 

When they did tumble out of the room, all flushed cheeks and awkward coughs, he could only stare. They stood before him, hand in hand. Beneath their trembling fear and shame, there was something strong and resolved. He saw it in the defiant clasp of fingers and the straight line of their shoulders. 

Fuck, he thought as he watched them. In that moment, they looked very much like Thorin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicadas, frogs, cigarettes and hard conversations.

They took the couch and Bofur beat a strategic retreat to the armchair that had once been Bombur’s. The springs gave a little too easily and the faint smell of Cheetos clung to it, but it was by far the safer perch at the moment. Bofur watched them carefully, saw their hands bound close and their thighs pressed together. 

“How long?” That was the most nagging question circling through his muddled thoughts. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they confessed to years. He loved Fili, but he thought he might actually be capable of killing the older boy if he’d taken advantage of his brother. 

“Since October.” Kili answered, seemingly the less flustered of the two though his face was ghastly pale. “Fili went with Mom to New Zealand for a few months when he finished school. When he came back...” 

“It just sort of happened.” Fili told the floor. 

“Didn’t.” Kili straightened up a bit. “I had to beg you for weeks. Don’t try and protect me.” 

“Wasn’t.” Fili protested. 

“You are.” Kili shook his head. “I chased him, Uncle, believe me.” 

The vise grip on Bofur’s stomach eased a few degrees. At least it was all, seemingly, consensual. 

“Does anyone else know?” 

“No.” Kili sighed. “We’re not...we’re careful. Usually. We didn’t mean for you to...I didn’t...” 

“I figured it was an accident.” Bofur said dryly. “What am I supposed to tell your parents?” 

“Nothing!” Kili’s eyes widened. “Please. We...there was a plan.” 

“A plan.” Bofur repeated dully. 

“We asked Uncle if we could come here for the summer.” Fili spoke up at last, voice hoarse and eyes still very much on the floor. “It wasn’t just because we...because of us. It’s tense back home, you know? And there all these expectations...” 

“Uncle keeps on about how we’re his heirs.” Kili filled in when Fili fell silent again. “We’re meant to inherit this company that no one has owned in twenty years. I love him, I truly do, and if it was just me I wouldn’t care. I’ve not got much of a future anyway-” 

“Hey!” Fili looked up at last, glaring at Kili. “That’s not true.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kili shrugged. “But I don’t mind much, really. It’s just....Fili’s smart. Really smart. He’s good with numbers and clever at all sorts of things. He could have gone to uni, but no one thought he’d need to because he was going to inherit Erebor, right? One of these imaginary days.” 

“Don’t say that.” Fili turned Kili hand over in his own, spots of color high on his cheeks. “We’ll get it back and then-” 

“And then you’ll be miserable all your life, playing second fiddle to Uncle?” Kili bit out. “No. I won’t let that happen. You’re so much more than that. This isn’t some middle ages bullshit. You don’t have to go into the family business, even if it was real. You can do anything, Fi.” 

“We owe him so much.” Fili’s voice broke and Kili’s face softened. “He practically raised us, you know that.” 

“That doesn’t mean he owns our futures.” Kili leaned in to kiss Fili gently on the cheek.

“I’m still here.” Bofur reminded them with a mildness he didn’t feel. 

“Sorry.” Kili backed off a few inches, still intimately close to Fili, who was flushing a new shade of red now. 

“You were telling me you had a plan. Of which there seems to be some disagreement?” 

“I agreed.” Fili said reluctantly. “I just knew from the start it wouldn’t work out, so I didn’t worry about the consequences.” 

“Seriously?” Kili asked, eyes wide with hurt. 

“I thought a summer away would do us both a little good.” Fili shrugged. “I knew we’d have to go home eventually. There’s a price, I told you that.” 

“Are either of you going to explain this to me? Or should I leave until you get your stories straight?” Bofur wanted to be doing something, fingers twitching nervously. The longer he watched them, the worse he felt. How could he have missed this? Not seen how they bent together like a flower to the sun? 

“I thought we did have them straight.” Kili mumbled. 

“Don’t be like that.” Fili nudged him a little, then finally looked Bofur in the eye. He was still the boy that Bofur had chased around and around with monster roars, yet he was also a stranger. A man with a certain steel under the whisper thin blue of his eyes. “Kili figured if we came here, liked it or whatever, I’d apply to a few colleges. If I got in, we could start fresh here. Get student visas and live somewhere no one knew us. It was...I knew it wasn’t going to work for any number of reasons, but he was so hopeful. I figured one summer couldn’t hurt.” 

“Oh, boys.” He stared at them helplessly. Kili looked utterly defeated, shoulders slumped and hair hanging in his face. Now it was Fili that looked determined. “What a mess.” 

“We didn’t ask for this.” Fili said, a little challenging. “We’ve tried...not. And it doesn’t work. This is just who we are.” 

He couldn’t think of anything to say to them. He stood, antsy and eager to just be away from the misery that had grown thick and hopeless in the room. 

“I need to think.” Bofur rubbed a hand over his lips, stroking his moustache straight. “Go for a walk and clear my head. Just...stay here.” 

Neither of them looked up as he went by and hustled down the stairs. The evening air had the slightest chill in it, a reminder that summer would not last forever. Autumn was chasing them now, the boys’ return tickets waiting for use. He’d been quietly dreading their going for days now. He loved having them about, filling in the empty spaces of his apartment. 

Now...he walked faster, the thud of his worn sandals on the pavement beating a ragged rhythm. Unbidden, his steps took him to Bilbo’s door and he stood reluctantly outside it for a long time. Inside, he could hear the low murmur of the television. It wasn’t late, but it was possible Frodo was already in bed. 

Yet, how could he talk to Bilbo about this? It seemed ugly and secret, buried in his gut like a burr. The boys certainly wouldn’t appreciate him telling their business to anyone else. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” Bilbo asked and Bofur started violently, nearly falling into the door. He turned, found Bilbo sitting on the low bench among the roses of his garden. He was nearly invisible in their midst, but for the bright orange point of his cigarette. 

“How long were you going to let me stand there like an idiot?” Bofur asked, amused. 

“You seemed to be working something out.” Bilbo gestured with his cigarette, leading a trail of smoke. 

Suddenly, viciously, Bofur wanted tobacco so badly his teeth hurt. The last time he’d picked up a cigarette, he’d been a decade younger and stupider. He’d smoked ardently back then, going through packs in a day until one winter he got a cough he couldn’t shake and gave it all up for good. Usually when Bilbo indulged in his single after dinner smoke, Bofur barely noticed. Now it was all he could think about. Reaching forward, he plucked the cigarette from Bilbo’s hand and took one blissful inhale, pouring the smoke out of his nose dragon like. 

“Now I know somethings wrong.” 

“Yes.” Bofur admitted, passing it back to Bilbo, then sinking down on the bench next to him. “But I don’t think I can tell you about it.” 

“Why not?” Stubbing the cigarette out into a delicate blue glass ashtray, Bilbo turned his full attention to Bofur. He looked worn out at the edges, faint dark circles visible under his eyes even in the twilight. 

“It’s not mine to tell.” He leaned forward to brush a kiss over the corner of Bilbo’s lips. They were warm, soft under his. “Anyway, you’re carrying enough weight.” 

“You’d be surprised how much I can lay across my shoulders.” Biblo tucked in closer, the tip of his upturned nose brushing over Bofur’s neck. 

The fireflies darted among the roses and the moon started its slow heavy rise upwards. Cicadas chirped awake and frogs punctuated their song with a deep bass note. Under it all, Bofur heard Bilbo’s steady breaths and the solid warmth of his presence. 

“Have you ever loved someone so much that you would spit in the face of the world to have them?” He asked. 

“Have you?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow. 

“In the beginning with Thorin, but I never actually had to, so who knows?” He rubbed two fingers along the back of Bilbo’s neck. The hair there was impossibly soft, catching at his fingers. “Maybe that kind of thing is only for the young.” 

“Should I be offended?” Bilbo titled his head forward, encouraging the light touch. “Will you never rage against the unfeeling bureaucracy for me?” 

“Not sure what I would rage about.” Bofur palmed the back of Bilbo’s neck, rubbing away the tight knots he found there. “We can get married if we like and it would be official and everything. There’s still issues to be fought, I know, but they aren’t ours really. We’re very lucky.” 

“I think,” Bilbo said around a soft moan as Bofur dug in particularly deep, “that we’ve made our luck. We fought hard and dirty when we were young and had the energy for it. If we reap our crop now, what’s wrong with that?” 

“And what are we reaping?” 

“Contentment. The pleasure of a late August evening. Someone to talk to and lean upon.” Bilbo smiled sideways at him. “I suppose I’ll never be the great love of your life, but I think what we have is something sweeter and kinder anyway.” 

“I wish I had met you all those years ago instead.” Bofur dropped his hand away. “We would have been well suited then too.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Bilbo tilted his face up for a kiss that Bofur gladly provided. 

“I would marry you now. If you wanted.” The confession slipped from him, unplanned, but no the less true for it. 

“Would you?” The smile that crossed Bilbo’s face was brilliant, full of teeth and laughter. 

“I do love you.” Bofur brushed another kiss across his lips. “It surprises me sometimes, how much.” 

“I don’t want to marry you.” Bilbo laughed into the kiss, drawing Bofur closer. “I love you very much though and I like to think of us sitting on this bench many years from now.” 

Not long after that, Bofur had to get up and leave a last affectionate peck to Bilbo’s reddened lips. Though he hadn’t even come close to telling Bilbo what was wrong, he felt much better for the visit. As he walked home, turning the issue over and over in his head, making a few decisions. Taking the stairs upward, he made sure to stomp a little. He wasn’t ever going to sneak up on them again. 

It turned out not to be necessary. They were still on the couch, Fili propped up on one end staring sightless at a sitcom. Kili was sprawled over him, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Absently, Fili ran his hand over Kili’s shoulders. When Bofur entered, Fili watched him with narrowed eyes. Many years ago at a zoo, Bofur had stood before a lion still licking its dinner from its lips. It had stared at him, a dark warning that chilled him straight through. He’d hidden behind his mother and waited for the great cat to pad away. 

Now he shivered, but stood his ground. 

“You’re safe here. I won’t tell anyone and if you truly want to stay in America, I’ll figure out how to help you.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t think you can understand how hard it was for me to leave the two of you behind. Every night for months, I would wonder who was looking after you that night. If you were happy. If you were eating well. It was foolish, I know. I never doubted your mother and father, not really. But it was unbearable anyway.” He pressed his lips hard together, refusing to become emotional. “I won’t do it again, even if means accepting something that I find...difficult to understand.” 

“I’m sorry.” Fili’s hand stilled. “I know this is...I never meant for you to know.” 

“But I do and that can’t be undone.” He kneeled down by the couch, reaching out to touch a stray lock of Kili’s dark hair. “You always did take such close care of him. I thought it was because of how you were raised, shunting back and forth between houses. Maybe not though. Maybe this was inevitable.”

“I went to therapy, you know.” Fili smiled tightly. “When he first started in on me and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold out, then again when we’d already begun it all. Went into the city, gave a fake name.” 

“Did it help?” 

“A little, but probably not in the way they meant to help. They wanted me to figure out the why of it. What happened to me as a kid, was I molested, were we abused, were we neglected....and it was none of that stuff. Not really. How do you explain how you fell in love with someone?” 

Bofur thought of Bilbo tucked among the roses and Thorin, holding court at a party. He had never had to question the whys of it. He loved because they were good men with strong hearts and stubborn opinions. He loved because they were easy to trust and beautiful in their own ways. 

“I’m sorry, lad.” Bofur touched Fili’s shoulder. “This must have been unbearable for you to carry.” 

“He doesn’t understand.” There was a hint of a wobble under Fili’s grim steel. “I’ve always taken on the worry, the fear of tomorrow. Maybe that was wrong of me, I don’t know. It’s been...I half-wanted to believe this stupid dream of his. But how can we leave our family behind? Uncle would never forgive us.” 

“I cannot speak for him.” For the first time in hours, Bofur knew exactly what to do. He tenderly brushed the hair back from Fili’s forehead. “I can only tell you that I’ll always care for both of you as if you were my own flesh and blood. You’re not alone.” 

“Ok.” Fili swallowed hard. “Ok.” 

“Let it out now.” It was an uncomfortable position, but he coaxed Fili’s head to his shoulder. “It’s ok. You’re not alone.” 

Fili’s tears were bitter, hard sobs, yet utterly silent. Even now, he shielded Kili from the worst of it. By the time Kili stirred, it was over and Fili had wiped the last of the evidence from his face. A new alliance had been born there in the darkness. A string stretched over an ocean for so many years, now reforged as a heavy chain. Bofur had thrown his lot in with his boys. It was the right thing for him, but it still felt a little like a betrayal. Doubtless that was how Thorin and Dis would see it. 

Bofur didn’t sleep that night. Instead he sat at open window, listening to the cicadas.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations in the darkness, conversations in the sun.

He made the call in darkness, dialing the numbers by ancient memory. The door to his bedroom was shut tight, the curtains drawn against the first cracking light of day. Bofur pulled his comforter up around his chin, the phone caught snug between shoulder and chin. 

The phone rang, once, twice and then, 

“Hello.” 

“Good morning.” Bofur pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. 

“Bo?” Thorin asked, the nickname a painfully familiar caress. 

“Yeah.” He said thickly. “How are you?” 

“Fine. Good.” Thorin cleared his throat. “What about you?” 

Their friendship over these last few years had been maintained tremulously through email. They avoided speaking on the phone and now Bofur remembered why. It was too hard this way, too real. He couldn’t take his time to compose the right tone, couldn’t strive for that breezy wit or playful teasing. He was stripped raw. 

“I’m ok. Sorry to bother you this early, but I figured you’d be awake.”

“Already on my first cup of coffee.” There was a muffled shuffling over the line, the ruffling of a newspaper maybe or the heavy cloth of Thorin’s old robe. “I...how are the boys?” 

“That’s what I’m calling about.” 

Fili had insisted that he would make this phone call. He had made very good arguments why it should come from him. Bofur had even agreed with him, nodding along at all the right points. But he knew that he would be the one to pick up the phone. There would be enough transatlantic yelling for the boy to absorb later. This, the first rip of the bandage from unwitting skin, would be better taken by Bofur. 

“What’s wrong?” Thorin asked. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” Bofur said quickly. “They’re both fine, in good health.” 

“Is it the airport thing again?” Thorin sighed. “Forget to pick a kid up from primary school one time and they never let you forget it, I swear to god.” 

“It more than once. I had to pick Kili up in tears that one time, poor kid had been waiting in the rain for two hours.” Bofur snapped then immediately wished he hadn’t said a word. The incident had been one of those sore spots between them, a surefire way to pick a fight. “Sorry. Look, this isn’t about picking them up.”

“What is it then?” Whatever cautious politeness Thorin had begun with was gone now. The burr of anger that always rattled beneath everything else had come to the fore. 

“I’m extending the boys an invitation to stay with me for the rest of the year. They like it here and there are some opportunities that I think would benefit them.” Nice and neutral, he reminded himself. Easy. “Kili has been a great help to me in the shop for one and there’s this interesting program-” 

“Fili wants to go to college, doesn’t he?” Thorin cut him off. 

“Yes.” Bofur scrubbed a hand over his eyes. 

“Fucking hell, Bo. I sent them to you for a little summer’s escape, not to re-engineer their futures to suit your purposes!” 

“My purposes?” He all but growled. “They’re men, Thorin, not little boys to be molded into whatever we might want them to be. They’re both smart and competent. Fili... he could do whatever he wanted to do.” 

“He’s going to inherit Erebor, what the hell does he need with some liberal arts bullshit?” 

“There is no Erebor!” 

It thudded out between them, a ton of rock settling across the distance. Bofur had never so directly challenged Thorin’s goal, even when he was packing his things and slipping out of his lover’s life. 

“You never believed in me, did you?” Thorin asked into the ensuing silence. 

“I did.” He corrected, swallowing hard around the hot lump in his throat. “I know what it means to you and the kind of man you are. I always thought, just another month, another year and he’ll have it and then it’ll all come back. We’d be us again. But time just kept slipping by and nothing ever changed. Even if you got Erebor back now, at what price?”

“Its worth any price to me.” It was as soft as whisper, but hard as steel. 

“Don't I know it.” Bofur laughed, mirthless and bleeding. “That’s a lesson you taught me well. But I’m not letting it cost you the boys too. They love you so well and they want so badly to have your approval. Fili might come back to you, but you’ve half-lost Kili already.” 

He listened to Thorin’s heavy breathing over the line. They’d had phone sex a few times when Bofur had gone home to Dublin to visit his mother. It had been dirty, raw and amazing, Thorin talking a filthy streak instead of his usual stoic silence. The memory prickled uncomfortably over Bofur’s skin. 

“I want to speak to them.” 

“They’re still asleep. It’s early here.” 

“You did that on purpose.” And for the first time, there’s a curl of amusement in Thorin’s voice. “You always were a manipulative shit when you could get away with it. It’s got to be four am over there. Did you even sleep?” 

“No.” He admitted. “I was too fucked up about calling you.” 

“Figures. Always a martyr. Look, just have them call me when they’re up and about.” 

“I don’t care what you say to them.” Bofur said as calmly and as sure as he could. “They have a place in my home and I will encourage them to pursue what they think is best for themselves.” 

“And did you know what was best for yourself at nineteen?” 

“I was a soldier then. Or had you forgotten? I was old enough to die for my country.” 

“Israel isn’t your country.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“You’re an Irish boy, born and bred.”

“You can’t pick and choose the parts of me you want to acknowledge.” And God, Bofur wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. “This isn’t about me anyway. My point is, yes, I knew perfectly well what I wanted to do at nineteen. And so did you for that matter. “ 

“Just have them call me.” Thorin must’ve stood, chair scraping against linoleum. “I don’t want to fight with you.” 

“Fine. They were up late and I’m not waking them, so it’ll be a few hours.” 

“I’ve got a construction job going. Won’t be able to pick up until this evening.” Thorin huffed. “But you knew that already.” 

“Educated guess.” 

“Of course.” Thorin huffed out a breath and if Bofur closed his eyes, he was there. Standing beside him the kitchen, their bodies brushing together as they moved about their morning preparations. “Sometimes...” 

Bofur waited, but the end of the sentence never came. Thorin only let out another huff and said, 

“Talk to you soon.” 

And then there was the heavy click and a limp silence. 

“Son of a bitch.” Bofur groaned into his hands, tossing the phone onto his nightstand. 

He got up, sick to death of his bed and took a long shower, sluicing soap and water over his skin again and again until everything tingled pink. When the steam cleared, he shaved and really took his time about it, evening the ends of his mustache with sharp careful snips. The sun started rising in earnest by the time he was done, spilling gold light through his kitchen’s TARDIS curtains. 

At loose ends, Bofur shuffled through the cupboards. Below the sink, he found a waffle iron long neglected, drips of stale batter stuck to the sides. Bombur must have overlooked it during the move, leaving it here like an artifact of long dispersed culture. Gently, Bofur unearthed it and scrubbed at it. 

By the time Fili and Kili stumbled into the kitchen, there was a high plate of waffles and another of bacon on the table. Bofur was still chopping strawberries and sipping through his second mug of coffee. He watched them negotiate the sudden feast, taking to their chairs with appetites undaunted by the drama of the last few days. 

They were messy from sleep, Kili’s hair a rumpled nest and Fili’s face lined with pillow marks. Their forks battle across each other’s plates and a gruff guttural noise warned Kili off a particular piece of bacon. Their legs were tangled together under the small table, the toes of Fili’s left foot strumming over Kili’s right ankle. 

“Try to leave some for me, brats.” Bofur set down the bowl of strawberries, swallowing down a mess of emotion. 

“These are fantastic.” Fili cut a second waffle in half, drizzling syrup with obsessive regularity into each square. “Thanks.” 

He waited until they’d finished up and washed the dishes to tell them.

“I said I’d handle it.” Fili groused, but the relief was clear in the set of his shoulders. 

“I’m sure he’ll still give you plenty to juggle.” Bofur snorted. “This way he’s had time to blow off some steam about it first.” 

“He’ll have called Mom by now.” Kili pointed out.

“Avengers assemble.” Bofur muttered, them loud enough to be heard, “You should call them first. Your mother will be worried, I’m sure.” 

The boys made the call together, huddled around the phone on the couch. Bofur gave them privacy, heading down to his workshop. He focused on assembling the kits he had left, unable to concentrate on anything more difficult. 

“She was very quiet.” Kili reported in twenty minutes later. 

“Where’s Fili?” 

“Showering.” Kili leaned heavily against the worktable. “Probably beating himself up. I’ll give him a few minutes with it, then go rescue him from himself.” 

“He works hard to keep the worst from you.” 

“Yeah.” Kili picked up one of the dragon wings, balancing it on the edge of his fingertips. “Always has to be eldest-” 

Bofur’s phone trilled. Dread plummeted his stomach to his knees, but the caller ID was a pleasant surprise. 

“Good morning.” He smiled into the phone, relieved to hear Bilbo’s returning, 

“And to you, my dear. I was wondering if you were planning on opening the shop this morning?” 

“Didn’t have any particular plans to. Why?”

“I'm formally inviting you and the lads would like to come kite flying with us. There’s a good strong breeze going and I thought it might lift Frodo’s spirits a little. Maybe get some color in his cheeks.” 

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Bofur glanced up at Kili, who was staring at the dragon wing with the kind of intentness usually reserved for life or death situations. “I think we could all use a breath of fresh air.” 

“Ah, so you pulled off the bandage then?” Bilbo asked, deceptively light. Bofur had given him the edited version of the story though he didn’t doubt that his clever lover had guessed at the darker underlying issue. 

“I’ll tell you about it when we have a moment of peace.” He assured him. 

“Mhm.” Bilbo murmured, a trace of tension in the soft sound. “How does noon sound? We can walk over to the park together? I’ll pack a bit of lunch.” 

“Fine by me.” 

The weather seemed to be apologizing for the brutal heat wave of the past two weeks with a clean, cool breeze and no humidity. Frodo was more animated than Bofur had seen him before, discussing the finer points of his kite with Kili as they walked. Fili drifted beside them, hands in his pockets and eyes on the faint wispy clouds. 

“It’s far from over.” Bofur told Bilbo as they let the younger generation pull ahead. “But its mostly their fight now.”

“You were upset on the phone.” Bilbo’s hand slid into his and Bofur squeezed it gratefully. 

“Talking to him makes me crazy.” He admitted. “That whole amicable breakup thing works great until you remember why you broke up in the first place. Frustrating bastard.” 

“I’m sure he was equally riled with you.” 

“That’s one word for it.” Bofur snorted. 

“What do you think he’ll do?” 

“Try to talk Fili out of it, most likely. He might even succeed.” 

They walked on quietly for a bit, watching as Kili bent to pick up a laughing Frodo and settle him over his shoulders. Fili rescued the kite from a sticky end against the sidewalk. It was a beauty, four bright colored panels with two wide white and blue eyes painted at one end. 

“I have to confess something.” Bilbo said eventually. “Something a bit embarrassing.” 

“Oh?” Bofur glanced over at him. 

“I am, utterly, screamingly, irrationally, jealous of him.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Its a very ugly feeling, I have to say. I don’t think I’ve ever really been jealous before.” 

“Jealous? Really? I just told you that I want to strangle him.” 

“I know that. I know you’d probably rather run over hot coals than be with him again, but there it is. Irrational.” Bilbo smiled a little tightly. 

“It’s a bit of a relief actually.” Bofur said before he could quite process the emotion. “I was beginning to think you were perfect.” 

“You were not.” Bilbo laughed. 

“Well, without major flaws anyway.” Bofur winked at him. “I can overlook the blanket stealing, preference for strawberry jam and the frankly scary amount of waistcoats you own as adorable quirks.” 

“My thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. Look, there’s nothing to worry about from Thorin. He’ll probably always make me mental, but he’s far away and out of my mind more often than not. This whole thing with the boys will probably bring us into more contact for awhile, but it will fade. He’s never been able to sustain his interest outside of a narrow focus for very long.” Something occurred to him and it was unbelievable that he’d never asked. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Is there any exes I should be leery of? I don’t think you’ve talked about anyone else.” 

“Would believe me if I told you that I’ve lived a life of rampant debauchery until I met you?” Bilbo asked lightly. 

“Actually? Maybe. You’ve got surprising layers sometimes.” 

“Do I?” Bilbo looked pleased and Bofur realized he’d taken it as a compliment. “Well, I’ve had a fair few partners, I suppose. Only one that stuck for any real length of time, but she’s even farther away than yours these days. Digging up temples in Thailand.” 

“She?” Bofur stopped dead. “Are you serious?” 

“What?” Bilbo smiled slightly. “Layers, my dear. Layers.” 

“I had no idea you were bi.” 

“Does it matter?” 

“No, not really. Who was this woman then? How long were you together?” 

“Four years. I had considered marriage and all that, but we just wanted different things. I liked adventuring, but I always knew I’d come back to a university life eventually. She could never leave field work. Her work on ancient religious customs has caused a lot of controversy. Last I heard, she’d teamed up with our old professor and they were neck deep in pottery shards.” Bilbo shrugged. “Once we broke it off, I realized that we were really quite different. Moving in different worlds.” 

“How long ago was this?” 

“Three years ago.” 

“So not long before you really did settle down into university life. Are you happy with the choice?” 

“I think it’s a boring man that has no regrets at all. Of course, I miss the field and I’m sure I’ll go back someday. Perhaps when Frodo is old enough to enjoy it, we’ll spend a summer at a dig site. But overall, I made the right choice.” He pointed to where Kili was setting down Frodo and Fili was prepping the kite for launch on a grassy hill. “This. I didn’t know that it was where I’d wind up, but I wouldn’t miss this afternoon for anything.” 

The kite proved an easy flier and Frodo soon tired of holding it steady. Instead, Bofur was put in charge of the threaded spool while a complicated game of tag ensued across the hill. Fili gave in after a few rounds, tracking over to where Bofur and Bilbo had settled in the grass. He flung himself down, looking up at the sky. 

“When I was nineteen, I was a homebody.” Bilbo said as if continuing a conversation he and Bofur had already begun. 

“Oh?” Bofur put the spool between his knees, gathering up dandelions to braid together. 

“I choose a university close to where I grew up and I rarely traveled more than an hour or two in any direction.” Bilbo shrugged. “Then I took my first archaeology class. I had this positively electrifying professor, eccentric and ridiculous, but also passionate. He chose me of all people to be his teaching assistant. I wound up traveling with him to Brazil. It was marvelous. I knew I’d found what I loved, you know? Never looked back.” 

“At seventeen, I went to live with my Dad in Israel.” Bofur glanced at Fili. The boy’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. “I wanted to have Israeli citizenship and at my age that meant serving in the army.” 

“I still can’t see you as a soldier.” They’d talked about it, late one night, when insomnia had taken them both. 

“I’ll show you a photo sometime. I wasn’t really cut out for it, but it was good anyway. Got in the best shape of my life for sure.” He knotted another dandelion in. “It made my mother crazy. She called me practically every day. I was lucky, didn’t really see much action.” 

“Do you regret it?” 

“Sometimes. But I’ve been told that only boring men have no regrets.” He knotted the last of the flowers together and dropped the gold crown over Bilbo's curls. It should have looked silly, but there was something beautifully pastoral and impish about it instead. 

“Really, my dear.” Bilbo chided, but made no move to dislodge the addition. 

“Look, Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo pelted toward them and there was indeed some color in his cheeks. And on the tip of his nose. Apparently sunblock had been forgotten. He was carrying a disgruntled looking toad between his cupped palms. 

The ensuing escape and rescue and release of said toad included a near loss of the kite and an emergency application of a Spongebob bandaid on a skinned knee. Lunch followed and then a chase after the ice cream truck. Sticky and pleasantly sweaty, the two parties separated as they neared the store, Bilbo still sporting the flower crown. 

Bofur’s phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket with a momentary confusion. A text appeared from Thorin. 

_Don’t bother with the phone call. Dis and I will be arriving tomorrow morning. Flight information in your e-mail._

“Son of a bitch.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New and old arguments.

Bofur spent the bulk of the night compulsively cleaning. Fili, taken by this new method of panic, assisted and the two of them bleached away grime from every corner of the apartment. Kili backed away slowly, fleeing the scene of Windexed insanity for the relatively safer arms of the store. 

With one sleepless night already behind him, it probably wasn’t surprising that despite high levels of panic, Bofur passed out on the couch a little after one am. He woke late and disoriented. Someone had left an offering of coffee on the table beside him, but it had long gone cold. Gulping it down anyway, he fumbled for his watch and established it was nearly ten.

Stumbling to his feet, Bofur checked over the apartment again and found it still relatively spotless. The boys had neatly made their beds and the sprawling mass of clothes had migrated back into the closets. There were a few drag marks on the carpet, regular and even. It took his cloudy mind a bit to catch on. 

At some point, they’d pushed the beds together and in the dark of last night, separated them again. It struck him not as disturbing, but profoundly sad. Fifteen years ago, Bofur had calmly come out to his parents and brothers. They hadn’t been thrilled or anything, but no one had gainsaid his right to love where he wanted. Fili and Kili would never have that option. 

A quick change of clothes later, Bofur started down into the shop. Music met him halfway down, a soft lullaby version of ‘Hey, Jude’. He slowed his pace, taking the stairs in silence. Kili was sitting in the ancient desk chair, ratcheted down low to the floor. The guitar settled in his arms, fingers light on the strings. He sang quietly as he played, a throaty tenor. Settled between the slight open vee of his legs was Fili, head pillowed on one of Kili’s knees and eyes at half-mast. For the first time since Bofur had walked in on them (and perhaps, in retrospect, since their arrival), Fili looked utterly at peace. 

Bofur sat down on the stairs as quietly as he could. He couldn’t quite bring himself to leave, but nor did he want to break the moment. Kili’s fingers moved over the strings, shifting from the Beatles to Simon and Garfunkel to something more modern that Bofur recognized only vaguely. Fili began to stir towards the end of the fourth song, eyes flickering back open. 

“Good morning, starshine.” Kili smiled down at him. 

“Wasn’t asleep.” Fili denied, swiping the sleeve of his t-shirt over the edge of his mouth where Bofur guessed a bit of drool might have escaped. 

“I know.” Kili wound a hand into Fili’s hair, rubbing over his scalp. 

“Oh, good, there you both are.” Bofur stood and clattered on the stairs a bit, covering for his lapse into spying. “They’ll be here any minute.” 

“Great.” Fili pushed up off the floor, brushing at his wrinkled shorts. 

“I’m going to put her away.” Kili tapped the guitar gently, before moving past Bofur and up the stairs. 

“You alright?” Bofur asked as Fili finger brushed through his hair, resettling it into one neat braid. 

“As good as I can be.” He rolled his shoulders, once, twice and stood up a little straighter. 

“You don’t have to stick to your guns, you know. I know this was more Kili’s idea than yours.” 

“But you think I should do it.” Fili challenged. 

“What I think doesn’t matter. You’re the one that will spend the rest of your life living with the consequences.” He tucked his arms carefully around himself, suddenly chilled despite the already rising heat of the day. 

“I have to give us a chance.” Fili shook his head. “They’ll never let us alone long enough to find out if we can work.” 

“Forget Kili.” Bofur said sharply, surprising himself by the vehemence in his voice. “You can’t make your choices for someone else. What do you want?” 

“I-” Fili rocked back a little. 

“Do you want Erebor?” 

“No.” It was nearly silent, barely more than the slight movement of lips. 

“Truly?” 

“It’s...it’s nothing I’ve ever wanted.” Fili admitted. 

“So what is that you want then?” 

“I want to build bridges.” It was a fragile sentence, shaking on its newborn legs. 

“Auckland Harbor Bridge.” Kili had come back down the stairs. “He fell in love with it while he was away last summer.” 

“I never told you that.” 

“You didn’t have to. I could see it, all the pictures you took and the way you talked about it.” Kili shrugged. “I looked through your sketchbook.” 

“Kili!” 

“What?” 

“You can’t just...ugh. Nevermind.” Fili threw up his hands. 

“I can’t just what?” Kili looked bemused, then started when a heavy knock rattled the bells above the shop door. 

“I’ll get it. You two compose yourselves.” 

Bofur wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting. Three years wasn’t that long to go without seeing someone and certainly Thorin was regular enough in his habits that he wasn’t expecting any massive changes. Dis hadn’t aged at all, her hair pulled back in a complicated bun and dressed in a pantsuit that looked flawless despite her hours in an airplane seat. As Bofur unlocked the door, he even caught a faint sniff of the perfume she’d always favored. It brought back a dozen memories of eating dinner at a crowded table. 

Thorin had not fared so well. He’d let his beard grow in fuller, a few stray greys working themselves into the mane. There were fine wrinkles cracked at the corner of his eyes lips and a suggestion of dark circles gathering under his eyes. More than those tiny signs though, were the way his shoulders fell forward a little, a gradual rounding from too many hours spent bent over maps and papers. 

“Hello, Bo.” Thorin reached out, clapping him on the arm. 

“Come in.” Bofur stepped back, unsure how to parse the shaky feeling that ran through him at the touch. “The apartment is just above the shop. We can talk there.” 

“No idle small talk to prolong the inevitable?” Dis raised an eyebrow. “You’ve changed.” 

“You came a very long way to have this conversation. I assumed you wouldn’t want to be fussed with pleasantries.” Bofur led them through the shop, acutely aware of Thorin’s presence at his back. 

The boys had cleared out of the workroom, but he could hear them upstairs in the kitchen. Putting on a pot of coffee if they were smart. Maybe lacing it with whiskey. As the climbed upwards, Bofur saw his apartment again for the first time. He wondered what Thorin made of the worn carpets, thrift store furniture and the knick-knacks, once familiar to him, rendered strange in a new location. 

“Be it ever so humble.” Bofur offered with a shrug, guiding them into the living room. The boys had made coffee, the smell permeating the tense air.

“Hi, Mom.” Fili emerged first, hands fisted nervously behind his back. 

“Look at you.” She clucked her tongue, stepping into him and tenderly sweeping back a few stray strands. “Did you use a lick of sunblock this summer? You’re all over with freckles.” 

“We spent a lot of time by the pool.” He murmured. 

“Where’s Kili?” 

“Here.” Kili submitted to similar scrutiny. 

Then as one they turned to Thorin. 

“We might as well sit.” Thorin chose Bombur’s chair, every inch the patriarch in the battered recliner. 

“I’ll get coffee.” Bofur ducked into the kitchen though he kept an ear out as he poured and stirred. 

He could make out the rising and falling of Thorin’s voice and the smooth intercessions from Dis. They were laying out their arguments, giving the boys their marching orders. He grimaced as he entered, passing out mugs as unobtrusively as possible then retreated to lean in the doorway as Dis nailed home a question to Fili, 

“Would you really give up your family to pursue an uncertain future?” 

“It’s not uncertain.” Fili dropped his eyes to the floor. “Engineers can make good livings.” 

“And what is Kili meant to do? Work as a shopboy?” 

“I like working in the shop.” Kili said mildly, taking a sip of coffee. “I’ve got a few ideas of my own too. There’s a shooting range not far from here. I’ve asked already and they’d be interested on taking on an archery instructor a few days a week. Between that and here, it’ll be enough until I get certified.” 

“Certified for what?” Dis asked, eyebrows winging upwards. 

“Working in a creche. Or nursery school, I guess.” Kili’s smiled a little as even Fili turned to him in surprise. “I like working with kids. I figure I’ll try it for a few years and if it really works for me then, I’ll give school another try. Maybe if its for something I like, it won’t be so bad.” 

“We practically had to chain you to a desk to get you to finish secondary school.” Thorin shook his head. “I can’t see you sticking it out to teach.” 

“Thanks.” Kili said dryly. 

“If it’s something he’s passionate about then he can do it.” Fili nudged Kili’s foot with his own, the only point of contact they had. Bofur, now used to their easy invasion of each other’s space, found the distance between them a little unsettling. 

“I expected something like this from Kili, honestly.” Dis sighed. “But I honestly thought you’d know better Fili. You know we expect you to look out for him.” 

“I do. I did.” Fili protested, cheeks heating. 

“You’d let him throw away both of your futures because you don’t know how to say no to your baby brother?” 

“It wasn’t-” 

“You’re a good man, Fili. You know what it means to me, to our family’s future if you walk away.” Thorin leaned forward. “Would you give up on our dream for a few years at a second rate American university?” 

“I-” 

“Fili.” Kili said calmly, his eyes all for his Uncle. “Go for a walk.” 

“Excuse me?” Fili bristled. 

“Go. For. A. Walk.” Kili ground out. “Now.” 

“Kili!” Dis’ eyes widened. “Don’t talk to your brother that way.” 

“Please, Fee.” Kili didn’t look away from Thorin. “Just a few minutes.” 

Without another word, though his confusion and anger were writ large on his face, Fili got to his feet and left. Kili waited until the clear ‘thud’ of the backdoor closing could be heard. 

“You both need to leave him alone.” Kili said into the ensuing silence. “Because if you keep working on him, he’ll go back with you and be miserable for the rest of his damn life to make you both happy.” 

“You don’t get to decide that for him.” Dis snapped. 

“And neither do you, Mom.” Kili snapped right back. “Where’s Dad by the way? Or did you even tell him? I bet you didn’t. Just came swanning in without consulting him and if we came back like good boys, it would never get mentioned again right?” 

“You don’t talk to your mother that way.” Thorin started. 

“What way? Telling the truth? I’ve got another one for you: Even if you pressure Fili into going back with you, he’ll wind up coming back here because I’m not leaving.” 

“His life doesn’t revolve around you.” Thorin was heated now. 

“No, it doesn’t. But I’m the only one that listens to him. The only one that knows how heavy all this hangs on him. If you take him back, you’ll just keep piling it on until his spine snaps with it and he needs someone to hold him up. That's me. It's always been me.” The coffee cup wedged in Kili’s hands was shaking, not with fear, but anger. “Did you know he has an ulcer?” 

“Don’t exaggerate, it won’t help your argument.” Dis sniffed. 

“It started two years ago. I knew he was in pain, but I couldn’t make him go to a doctor until I found him throwing up blood in the bathroom.” Kili set down his coffee mug with a hard thwack. “It was my fault too. I lean on him too hard, expect things of him...but I know better now.” 

“Blood?” Dis looked sick. “How didn’t we notice?” 

“You were in Mumbai.” Kili said bitterly. “We were staying with Uncle.” 

“I think I would have noticed something like that.” Thorin all, but growled. 

“You didn’t even notice we were gone when I took him to the doctor the next day.” Kili bit at his lower lip. “That whole first year after Bofur left, you just checked out. You were lucky Fili was there. I came close to getting into a lot of trouble.” 

Thorin’s eyes darted to Bofur, who struggled to keep a neutral expression on his face. It didn’t surprise him that Thorin hadn’t paid the boys as much mind. Thorin himself had been mostly on his own by the time he was fifteen, half-raising Dis himself. To him, fifteen meant getting a job and looking after someone else. 

That Kili attributed the inattention to Bofur’s own departure shocked him more than a little. 

“Is this your way of getting back at us?” Dis’ whole face had fallen. Whatever righteous power had driven her here had deserted her. “Revenge for our failings?” 

“Oh, Mom.” Kili reached out to her, put a hand on her wrist. “It’s just the opposite, really. You raised us to be strong, to fend for ourselves and lean on each other when we needed help. So that’s what we’ve done.” 

“I just don’t understand.” She clutched at Kili. “You know what Erebor means to us.” 

“To you.” And it was as gentle as Bofur had ever heard Kili. “Not to us.” 

Tears formed in Dis’ eyes, sliding in slow motion down her cheeks. Thorin turned at last to Bofur.

“Are you happy now?” 

“No.” Bofur withstood the glare. “Nothing about this brings me any kind of joy.” 

“It’s what you wanted, in the end. For me to give up on Erebor.” Thorin stood, crossed the thin space between them. 

“I wanted you to love me as much as you loved your plans.” Bofur crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to step back. “When I left you, I gave up on that. Believe or not, I haven’t spent the last three years obsessing over some bizarre vengeance.” 

“Can I come back in now?” Fili asked from the stairs. “Or is my future still being decided for me?” 

“My baby.” Dis was on her feet, pulling Fili into a smothering hug. “Why didn’t you tell me about your stomach?” 

“You told her?” Fili glared over his mother’s shoulder. 

“She needed to know.” Kili didn’t flinch. 

“Are you on medication? Did you see a good doctor?” She clung harder. “I’m a terrible mother.” 

“No, you’re not.” Fili buried his face in her hair. “Really, you’re not. I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m fine. I was getting a lot of headaches and I took too many painkillers, that’s all. I stopped taking them and I got better. It’s not a big deal.” 

“I should have been there to take you to the doctor.” 

“Kili took me.” Fili rubbed her shoulders. “I’ve taken him so many times, it was just his turn.” 

That only made her sob harder, “It should have been me, every time.” 

“Dis, don’t do this.” Thorin said softly, drawing her off of Fili. “They’re both fine and healthy.” 

“You don’t understand.” She wiped her eyes on a tissue from the box Kili offered her. “I never wanted this for them. I wanted it to be better. I thought by now, we’d have it all back. They would have everything they ever wanted. Instead, they’ll have to sweat and work just like we did.” 

“I want that sweat.” Fili sat down on the arm of the couch. “I don’t need to be some pampered crown prince. I want to fall asleep over textbooks because I’ve worked too many hours and I want to work hard for something that I built on my own. Can’t you understand that?”

“You don’t know what it was like.” Thorin looked caught, still standing too close to Bofur, but seemingly unable to move away. “What we had. Who we were. You’ve never had a real home, living out of one flat or another. Smaug stole your future.” 

“So we’ll make our own.” Fili squared his shoulders. 

“We always had a home, anyway. Sometimes a few.” Kili shrugged. “So what if it wasn’t always in one place or lavish or whatever.” 

“Can’t miss what you’ve never had.” Bofur pointed out gently. 

The conversation didn’t end there, but it might as well have. Dis had given in, spending the rest of afternoon alternating between tearful regrets and practicalities. While Thorin still halfheartedly protested, she talked about financial aid and sponsorship for citizenship. 

“I’ll make sandwiches.” Bofur decided as the afternoon waned into evening. 

As he pulled out bread, he felt more than heard Thorin come into the kitchen behind him. He pulled out cold cuts and started slicing up a tomato. They’d played out this game a hundred times. Thorin liked to gather his thoughts in silence and Bofur had always let him. They would work together at some mundane task, folding laundry or making dinner and eventually whatever had weighed on their minds would venture out of their mouths. 

The ritual sat uneasily now. Friendly silence had taken on an ominous quiet that Bofur wanted to break with nervous chatter. 

“Did you really think I didn’t miss you at all? That I would just keep going as if nothing had changed?” 

Bofur stared down at the tomato pulp on his fingers. 

“I did.” He told the tomato, slicing through the tender flesh. “You barely talked to me in the end. It was like living with a ghost.” 

“I missed you every day.” Thorin sounded choked. “To go to sleep without you there and wake in the morning to an empty bed...Ten years, Bo. Ten years together and you think I didn’t feel a damn thing about it when it was over?” 

Bofur braced himself against the counter. 

“What was I supposed to think? You let me just walk out. Never said a word. You just flew across the world to have a conversation. I know what you’re willing to do to get what you want.” 

“You were disappearing on me.” Thorin’s hand landed in Bofur’s field of vision. “Little by little. We’d be talking until I realized the conversation had become one sided and you weren’t even looking at me. I’d reach for you at night and you were already awake or maybe never come to bed at all.” 

“But you never got out of bed to see where I was, did you?” They were standing too close now. Bofur wanted to slide away or move even closer. “I was thinking about leaving for months. Couldn’t sleep and maybe I was hoping you would get up and ask me. Ask me what was wrong or what had changed. You didn’t want to know.” 

“You could have told me instead of slipping away.” 

“You could have tried.” Bofur sighed. “It’s over. Dead. Why does it matter now?” 

“I loved you.” Thorin touched the bend of Bofur’s elbow, light and solicitous. “I hate that you thought I didn’t care.” 

“I knew you did.” Bofur put his hand over Thorin’s, the dry skin familiar and yet alien from years of distance. “If I didn’t remind myself about the bad parts then it was too hard to stick to my guns. I couldn’t go back, but I wanted to. God, the first year when I was shoved in here with Bifur and Bombur and the shop was barely making it....I thought about you all the time. When things were good...”

“They were very good.” Thorin rumbled. Bofur looked up and found a wistful smile on Thorin’s mouth. A mouth he remembered kissing all too well. 

“But when things were bad.” Bofur huffed out a breath that was a laugh or the beginning of a sob. 

“I’m sorry.” Thorin leaned in, brushed a kiss over Bofur’s cheek and for one overwhelming moment, it was as if the last three years hadn’t happened at all. They were younger all over again, tender with each other. 

“So am I.” His voice came out raw, grated and sour in the back of his throat. 

Thorin pulled away first, piling roast beef onto one open sandwich. They finished preparing lunch together and brought them back into the living room. It was clear the conversations of the last few hours had worn everyone down. Kili especially looked done in, eating with his forehead propped up in one hand. 

Dis and Thorin departed for a hotel not long after, exhausted goodbyes all around. As soon as they were gone, Kili practically crawled onto Fili’s lap. Fili looked grateful for the excuse for a cuddle, wrapping his arms around Kili. 

Bofur gave them one glance and made an easy decision, after a few quick text messages. 

“Place is yours for the night, lads. Get some sleep. Be ready for lunch tomorrow. Round two.” 

“Oh God.” Kili groaned, burying his face further into Fili’s neck. 

“Thank you.” Fili said over Kili’s dark hair. 

The walk was the best thing Bofur had felt all day. At first he credited the cooling night air and the chance to move around a little. But as he got closer and closer to his goal, all of that petty reasoning fell away. He picked up his pace, practically jogged the last few blocks. Practically as soon as he knocked, the door fell open and warm light spilled out. 

“Hello, my dear.” Bilbo held out his arms. 

“I love you.” Bofur swept him up off his feet until Bilbo was laughing through his protests. “A million times I love you.” 

“As I love you.” Bilbo said as soon as he was back on his feet, eyes bright. “Now come inside. I’ve got a pot of tea on.” 

The door closed behind them and the evening got markedly better after that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are roles we play: thieves and toymakers and kings.

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.” 

Bofur was lying on his stomach, pillow tucked haphazardly under his chest. Bilbo stretched out next to him, toes grazing over Bofur’s calf and one hand traced idle patterns on Bofur’s shoulder. The covers were in a complete disarray and neither of them had bothered to get dressed again. 

“What do you mean?” Bilbo’s fingers tripped down Bofur’s spine. 

“He’s right. I did just absent myself at the end. Checked out, I guess. I never really talked to him about it. I don’t want to fuck up that way twice.” 

“So don’t.” Bilbo pressed his hand flat at the small of Bofur’s back. “I’d really prefer if you talked to me before moving to Uganda or something if that helps.” 

“Just don’t let me do it to you.” 

“I’m not sure how I’m meant to stop you.” Bilbo sighed. “Look, it’s not even close to the same thing, is it? You were sort of...married to him. We’re not like that. Maybe we never will be. Maybe we aren’t meant to be. You keep your place, I have mine.” 

Bofur frowned, watched Bilbo’s face in the semi-darkness. 

“Don’t you want to live together one day? I sort of assumed...” 

“No idea. Never really done it.” 

“What? Not even with your woman?” 

“Oh, call her Gabby, ‘your woman’ sounds awful.” 

“Fine, didn’t you live with Gabby?” 

“Only technically. Like I said, we met traveling and sort of kept on that way. We shared hotel rooms often or a tent at the dig site, but we never did get around to having one place to call home. It didn’t seem to matter than.” Bilbo brushed a kiss over Bofur’s bicep. “I like having my own space. It suits me. If you wanted to move in, I suppose I could adjust, but its not really on my agenda.” 

“Huh.” 

“Have I offended you?” Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “I have. I didn’t mean too, my dear, truly.” 

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘its not you, its me’ I’m going to leave.” Bofur said dryly. 

“They weren’t going to be.” Bilbo hitched closer as if Bofur might make good on that threat. “It’s us. How we work.” 

“I liked living with someone.” Turning, Bofur tangled their legs together. “The certainty of company was good.” 

“Which you have the boys for now.” 

“They may not-” 

“Please. You know Fili will go to college here or close by. They’ll stay with you. It’s only practical since you’ll never have the heart to charge them rent and emotionally, they’ll want the anchor of someone familiar.” 

“Its not quite the same.” 

“No.” Bilbo agreed. “But it’s not radically different either. Are you that unhappy with the way we do things now?” 

Bofur settled a hand over the point of Bilbo’s hip, rubbing his thumb over soft skin just next to the dark nest of pubic hair. He thought about the walks between the apartment and the cottage, the dates in interesting little restaurants and the long quiet nights sitting together in the garden. It didn’t have the same worn comfort of coming home to a partner at the end of the day. He’d liked waking up every morning with Thorin and spending most evenings together, even if they weren’t talking. 

“Not unhappy.” He admitted. “It’s just different, I think. Not what I’m used too. I think I’m a bit of a traditionalist at heart.” 

“More than a bit.” Bilbo leaned in for a kiss. “You’ve got an old fashioned heart.” 

“Mmm. And you’ve got an adventurous one.” 

“Sometimes.” Bilbo agreed. “How about we take it day by day? When it starts making you unhappy, you tell me and we’ll figure it out.” 

“Wasn’t that how this conversation started? I’m not very good at talking about these things.” 

“Well, get better then.” Bilbo tugged gently at the end of Bofur’s mustache. “I’m not a mind reader and I don’t intend to become one in the foreseeable future.” 

“So I’ll just fix a basic personality flaw then.” 

“Oh, come off it. You say you don’t want to make the same mistakes again, so just remember that, all right? I’m sure we can discover some spectacular new ones to make together rather than relive your greatest hits.” 

“Sometimes you’re not terribly reassuring.” Bofur groaned. 

“I get less empathic at two in the morning. Especially when Frodo will probably be wide awake with the sun.” 

“Go to sleep then. I’ll only keep talking in circles if we stay awake.” 

Some renegotiation of pillows and blankets, Bofur spooned up behind Bilbo and let sleep take him. Morning came too soon, leaving him fumbling out of an empty bed into yesterday’s clothes. Frodo and Bilbo were in the kitchen demolishing a stupendous amount of french toast. Bofur snagged a piece, a kiss from Bilbo and a high five from Frodo, before heading back out into the world. 

The sky was overcast, a heaviness in the air suggesting rain curled the ends of Bofur’s hair. The apartment was quiet when he came in and he took the opportunity to shower. As he scrubbed, he discovered a tender spot on his shoulder. He touched it, confused and got out of the running water to clear the fog from the mirror. A small bruise had formed there, unmistakable in its origin. 

“Really?” He asked his reflection. Neither he nor Bilbo were particularly rough in bed, preferring exuberance over forcefulness. Apparently though Bilbo had forgone his usual qualities when Bofur was too far gone to pay enough notice. 

He traced the red and purpling skin, felt the bite of the ache. He hadn’t had a hickey of any kind in years. It was actually kind of nice to feel that bit of possession. Though his t-shirt would hide it, he’d know it was there for the rest of the day at least. Had it been intentional? A purposeful marking? The thought warmed his belly despite all logic and he returned to his shower with a smile. 

The boys didn’t get up for another two hours and a late night was written clearly in the heavy lids of their eyes. They fell over each other on the couch, a tangle of long legs and messy hair. 

“I think I told you to get some sleep.” 

“Doesn’t look like you took your own advice.” Fili grumbled, head resting on the arm of the couch. 

“Point.” He sat cross-legged in Bombur’s armchair. “Have you thought about what you’re going to tell them today?” 

“Nothing left to say really.” Kili shrugged. “I think Mom’s come around to our side for the most part. Guess we’ll just have a really awkward lunch. They can’t stay much longer.” 

“Uncle won’t give up so easily.” Fili shifted and Kili moved to accommodate him. They refit around each other, easy puzzle pieces. Bofur had to look away. They were too raw with each other before him, too open now that he knew. He couldn’t tell Bilbo about this, explain how living with the boys had this terrible downside. What worried him most of all was that he was getting used to it. Maybe one day, horrifically, it wouldn’t bother him at all. “It’ll be another round of grilling.” 

“Why don’t you get ready instead of speculating?” He shooed them off and tried to get his head on straight. 

They met up with Thorin and Dis at a restaurant not far from the hotel. It wasn’t one that Bofur had been to before which was why he’d chosen it. He’d prefer not to sully one of his usual spots with hard memories. Neither Thorin nor Dis looked liked they’d seen a good night’s sleep. They’d already secured a table and watched the boys approach warily. 

“Hi, Mom.” Fili leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek, before sitting down next to her. Kili sat on his other side which left Bofur next to Thorin. 

“I’ve heard good things about the paninis here.” He offered. 

“I’m not particularly hungry.” Thorin pushed the menu away, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll just get coffee.” 

“Ruin your stomach that way.” Bofur chided then reddened. It was another old script, repeated a hundred times. 

Thorin snorted and flashed him a half-smile. When the waiter came around, Thorin ordered an omelet, pointedly not looking Bofur’s way. 

“I spoke with your father.” Dis said as soon as the waiter had left. 

“What does he think?” Fili asked cautiously. 

“He’s a little hurt, but...” She made a dismissive hand gesture. “He wasn’t of Erebor really. He’s more upset that you decided this without talking to us.” 

“He would have just told you and we’d be right back here.” Kili groused then winced. Fili must have kicked him under the table. “Sorry.” 

“No, you’re probably right.” Dis let out a soft slow breath through her nose. “He suggested that maybe this was coming about because you’re beginning to feel stifled at home. If you come back, your father and I are willing to help you get your own flat. Even pay for it until you find the funds to carry it on your own. Frankly, I don’t like the thought of Kili on his own so young, but its been pointed out to me that you’ve been doing the bulk of the care taking the last few years.” 

“No, I-” Fili started then stopped, clearly uncomfortable with the credit. Another layer to add to the boy’s growing guilt complex. 

“So Dad’s compromise is we come home, do our duty and as a reward we get our own place?” Kili frowned. 

“I thought it was sound.” Thorin didn’t lean back in. Gone was the commanding presence of yesterday and in its place, an exhausted defeat. It was disconcerting. 

Even if the boys agreed and went home, they couldn’t erase this episode. The truth, or some if it anyway, had spilled out before them. Still, it was a smart compromise and Bofur was forced to wonder how much the boys’ father really knew. Arin had always been a bit of a cipher to Bofur, quiet in a family that valued loud debate and rarely interested in contradicting his wife. It was possible he observed more than Dis and Thorin, read between the lines. 

Kili’s face was already set in grim determination, but Fili was staring down at his own hands. Bofur had to wonder if he was remembering their conversation. Certainly if all that mattered to Fili was protecting his relationship with Kili then this would be the perfect solution for the boy. Have the one he loved without losing the good opinion of his parents and beloved Uncle. 

“It’s a good offer.” Fili said after a breathlessly long pause. “But no, thanks. It’s not about privacy or anything like that. I just want a chance to see what I could be if I pursue this.” 

“You may regret it.” Thorin rumbled. 

“I’ve got it on good authority that its a boring man that has no regrets.” Fili smiled tightly. 

“Is that so?” Thorin glanced at Bofur. 

“I like to think I’ve got a few interesting stories these days.” He offered up. 

“So do I.” Thorin shook his head. “You know, stubbornness runs in our family.” 

“I hadn’t noticed.” Bofur said dryly. 

“My point is that I should have known once they put their minds to something it was over.” He looked at the boys, a little wistfully. “They used to think I was a hero. Do you remember?” 

“I think they still do. Or they would have just run off and you’d never have heard from them again.” Bofur honestly believed that. Kili might have all on his own if he hadn’t had to wait for Fili to catch up with his fervor. “They respect you too much for that.” 

“Maybe.” Thorin didn’t look particularly reassured. 

“It happens to all fathers, one day. Don’t you remember the day you realized your own was just a man?” He picked up a fork, twirling it idly between his fingers. 

“I’m not their father.” 

“Maybe not their sole one, but you raised them as surely as Arin did. You taught them everything they cared to learn about being a man, I think. I don’t see much of his silences in them. I see your sense of injustice though and fierce loyalty.” 

“Do you know what I see in them?” Thorin took the fork from between Bofur’s fingers, setting it gently against the tablecloth. “Good and kind men. That’s not Arin or me.” 

“Thorin.” Bofur forestalled. 

“Calling me father is to give that title to you too.” Thorin gestured to where Fili and Kili were trying to explain something to their mother at the same time, a mess of gesticulation. “They’re Arin’s boys by blood and mine by right, but Bo, you gave them your heart. That’s what I see. I’m starting to think that I sabotaged this all myself, sending them to you this summer.” 

Bofur only stared at him, wordless and flushed. Thorin looked back steadily. 

“California Omelet?” The waiter asked. 

The moment shattered, but it stayed with Bofur all through the meal. Whatever arguments Thorin might have been keeping in reserve, went unheard. He only ate and agreed with Dis whenever she turned a suggestion his way. 

“I’m not happy about it.” Dis concluded when the bill was paid and they were outside in the oppressive humidity once more. “And I want you both to know that you can always come home. No questions asked.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” Fili hugged her, maybe a little too long. 

“How long will you stay?” Bofur asked, trying to keep his tone light. “We could show you around a little.” 

“I have work to be getting back too.” Dis embraced Kili, who went a little more reluctantly. “I think it’d be best if we let this rest here for now.” 

They turned to Thorin as a group and he rolled his eyes, opening his arms for both boys, “You’re idiots and I think you’ll regret it, but you have my blessing.” 

The boys thudded into him and almost knocked him down. Thorin held them tightly, eyes shut over Fili’s shoulder. Whatever he thought those closed eyes hid, Bofur read easily in the tight lines around his mouth. 

“You’ll call your mother once a week.” He told them, voice betraying only a fraction of the emotion he must be dealing with. “No excuses.” 

“Of course.” Fili pulled back, eyes a little pink around the edges. “We’ll call you too.” 

“Just to check in.” Kili smiled broadly, rocking on his heels. 

“Just to check in.” Thorin agreed, mock cuffing Kili on the arm. “Brat.” 

“There’s a flight with empty seats in a few hours.” Dis was already on her phone, checking over times. “If we leave soon we should be able to get on it.” 

“You could stay a little longer.” Fili said to Thorin quietly. “Honestly, I’d like it.” 

“I think it’s best if I go.” Thorin stepped towards Bofur. “A moment, lads?” 

They backed off, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“That was good of you.” Bofur said. 

“Was it? It seemed like the only option left.” Thorin studied him. “I have regrets.” 

“I know. So do I.” He folded his arms over his chest. “But I think we’ve done all we can about them now.” 

“Perhaps.” Thorin took another step closer. “We could try again.” 

“Oh.” Bofur took a stumbling step back. “No. No, I don’t think so.” 

“Why not? I was never happy about how it all ended and I thought with everything we’d talked about-” 

“It’s too late for that.” Bofur recovered. “We can’t just undo the last few years. We’ll just fall back into the same patterns.” 

“We can change.” 

“Kili!” A small voice penetrated the air and there was Frodo like a sign from the Heavens themselves. He darted into their little group, heading straight for Kili’s legs. With a laugh, Kili plucked him off the ground. 

“And what are you doing here, young sir?” 

“Uncle was taking me shopping!” 

“Frodo!” Bofur made out Bilbo’s voice from among the afternoon shoppers. 

“He’s over here!” Fili called out and a harried Bilbo found the directly. 

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Bilbo started scolding even as he checked over Frodo for bumps and bruises. Then he seemed to realize what he was standing in the middle of. “Oh my. I am sorry, my dear.” 

“It’s fine.” Bofur laughed, just to let go of some of the tension spiralling in him. “Thorin, Dis, this is Dr. Bilbo Baggins.” 

“Bofur’s boyfriend.” Kili put in and for a moment, Bofur understood Fili’s shin kicking impulses. Thorin visibly tensed and then released. 

“Of course.” He muttered. “Why didn’t you just say so?” 

“It didn’t seem to be the primary point.” Bofur murmured in reply. “You wouldn’t’ve cared anyway.” 

“True.” Thorin turned to give Bilbo a once over. Bilbo gave him one right back. 

“Good to meet you.” Bilbo finally said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Funny. First I’m hearing about you.” Thorin held out a hand to shake and for the first time since they’d met, Bofur realized just how small Bilbo really was. Thorin towered over him, his hand engulfing Bilbo’s. It was just something about Bilbo that didn’t allow anyone to think of him as small. 

“Didn’t really seem like a good time to go on about my current state of domestic bliss.” Bofur shrugged, shooting Bilbo an apologetic look. It didn’t reach him. All of Bilbo’s focus was on Thorin. 

“I hope your visit is going well.” Bilbo said, infinitely mild and polite. 

“Better than I’d hoped, not as well I had intended.” Thorin stood straighter, squaring his shoulders. “So you’re a doctor?” 

“A professor, actually. Archeology.” 

“Really? The dynamite and thieving kind or the toothbrush and museum kind?” 

“Six of one, half dozen of the other.” The tip of Bilbo’s nose twitched. 

“You don’t strike me as a thief.” 

“I would never call myself one.” Bilbo put his hands in his pockets, the picture of polite disinterest. “I do consider myself handy with a map and a certain kind of knowledge though.” 

“I don’t think most thieves would identify themselves.” 

Kili mouthed ‘What the fuck?’ over Bilbo’s shoulder at Bofur and he could only shrug helplessly in return. 

“Probably not. That would make your troubles much easier wouldn’t it? I mean if Mr. Smaug was an honest thief, instead of a dishonest one.” 

“What do you know about it?” Thorin challenged. 

“Oh, this and that. Things an archaeologist would know.” Bilbo tilted his head slightly to one side. “For instance, did you know the main mine of Erebor run directly through the ruins of an ancient city? Anyone drilling there for the last two decades is in direct violation of several preservation acts. I’d go so far as to say that if it came to the attention to the right people, the mine would be shut down indefinitely. A crippling blow to the current ownership.” 

It took Thorin several seconds to recover and ask, “How crippling?” 

“I’m sure you know the figures better than me, but I would assume bankruptcy.” Bilbo shrugged minutely. “Now, if one were to make a generous offer right after those lawsuits hit, one might find the current owner in a fairly amenable state to deal. Of course, what the new owner would be inheriting was a company crippled by lawsuits and a sudden downturn in production. Not ideal, I think we can all agree, but better than the alternative.” 

“So the question remains, who are the right people?” 

“As it so happens, people that I know very well.” Bilbo looked at a point over Thorin’s shoulder. “It’d be a bit of a risk for me of course. These things can get tricky politically.” 

“Where the hell did you find him?” Thorin asked Bofur. 

“You know, I have no idea.” Bofur laughed. “I thought he had a head on collision quite by accident in front of my shop, but now I’m starting to wonder.” 

“My dear, don’t get suspicious.” Bilbo winked at him, so quickly that Bofur wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “I certainly wouldn’t have risked life and limb like that.” 

“But you might have paid off a certain seven year old to get lost in a crowd at just the right moment?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Bilbo picked an imaginary speck of lint off his waistcoat. “It was certainly serendipitous that we should encounter each other though, don’t you agree?” 

“Oh, it’s serendipitous all right.” 

“What do you want in return?” Thorin demanded, done with waiting out their flirtations. 

“A bit of stock in the company, that’s all. Oh and the right to work on any archaeological finds you may encounter when prospecting in new mines.” Bilbo drew his gaze back to Thorin, eyes narrowed. “In case you find something, worthless to you, but priceless to me. Of course, we’ll have to have a written agreement of some kind and you’ll probably want to think it over. My card.” 

Thorin took the manilla square and studied it, before tucking it away in his pocket. 

“You’ll be hearing from me, Dr. Baggins, that you can count on.”

“Good, good.” Bilbo reached a hand to Frodo, who had been watching the conversation with close attention. “Come on, my boy, we’re interrupting.” 

“Not at all.” Dis said formally. 

“Of course, we are.” Bilbo nodded his head cordially at her. “It was a pleasure meeting you all. Your sons are very fine men, Mrs. Dain, very fine.” 

“Thank you.” She smiled, quite genuinely. 

“You’re very welcome.” Bilbo brushed passed Thorin, dismissing him entirely to come before Bofur. “Do excuse me, my dear, for interrupting?” 

“Oh, you’re excused. For now.” Bofur shook his head. “Dinner tomorrow?” 

“Seven.” Bilbo leaned up, steadying his hand on one shoulder so that his thumb pressed into the bruise his mouth had left behind the day before and kissed him once, very gently. “Maybe meatloaf. I’m in the mood for something traditional.” 

“Funny, I was thinking I wouldn’t mind a little adventure.” 

“Mm.” Bilbo drew away, a smile just forming at the edges of his lips. “Maybe a bit of both? I believe I can manage that. Say goodbye, Frodo.” 

“Bye!” Frodo waved at everyone like a pint size ambassador. 

“So.” Thorin waited until the Baggins were out of earshot. “Did you know your boyfriend was Indiana Jones?” 

“I had my suspicions.” Bofur couldn’t help, but grin. “I think he’d look good in the hat.” 

“What just happened?” Fili looked between Thorin and Bofur. 

“Bilbo just offered your Uncle back Erebor in exchange for almost nothing.” Bofur grinned widely. 

“Not nothing.” Thorin corrected with such intensity that Bofur turned to him in confusion. “Stocks. Rights to archaeology finds. Those will generate a lot of revenue over time. And...well. Not nothing, Bo.” 

It hit him all at once and he raised his hand almost against his will to the hidden hickey. It shouldn’t really have surprised him how much Bilbo understood Thorin. In a strange way they were very much cut from the same cloth. Driven men with a taste for the unknown and a strong sense of self. Bilbo knew Thorin’s weak spot and had silently made Thorin an offer he couldn’t refuse. 

“I suppose we really can’t change, can we?” Bofur’s smile dimmed, but didn’t entirely disappear. He had always known where he stood compared to Erebor. The sting these days was lessened. He’d crossed some kind of threshold these passed few days. He would always love Thorin, in some way or another, but he would never again be in love with him. 

“No. I suppose not.” 

“What am I missing?” Kili hissed at Fili, who swatted at him. 

“We really need to make that flight now.” Dis insisted. “There will be paperwork to look into, see if we can back up Dr. Baggins claim with actual evidence. If he’s right, we’ll have to entirely switch gears.” 

“Book the flight.” Thorin hugged both the boys again. “If you need anything, let me know.” 

In a flurry of last goodbyes later, they were gone. 

“I think,” Kili said, “we should get ice cream immediately.” 

“Here, here.” Fili laughed. “And booze. Oh God, I would love to be drunk right now.” 

“I’m not condoning alcohol consumption among minors.” Bofur said primly. “I will however go right home and open up a bottle whiskey and leave it on the counter. Whoever happens to consume it, isn’t my problem.” 

He did exactly that. Took his own glass with four ice cubes and six fingers of aged whiskey into his bedroom. Laying down, he balanced the glass on his sternum. There was a cobweb in one corner, clinging there helplessly. He didn’t think about Thorin or Bilbo or the boys. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he thought about the store, the kits he wanted to work on and the back to school display he wanted to put out next week. 

Outside, the storm finally broke with a rumble of thunder. Rain lashed against the window. Cool air seeped through the window pane, bringing with it the first crisp scent of autumn. He listened to the rain and watched the lightning streak over the walls for a long time. The condensation of the whiskey glass soaked a wet circle in his t-shirt. 

“Can I come in?” Fili asked quietly, some unknowable time later. 

“Of course.” 

He didn’t move, just felt the bed sink a little when Fili settled on the edge of it. 

“I wanted to say thanks. None of this was easy for you and...just thanks.” 

“I don’t need your gratitude.” Bofur reached out, found the nightstand to leave his glass on. He’d had only half of it, but his head swam a little. 

“Maybe not. But I need to give it.” Fili shifted a little. “I’m not sure what we would’ve done if you hadn’t...if we didn’t come here this summer.” 

“I know what you would’ve done.” 

“Really?” Fili asked, incredulously. 

“You would’ve have gotten here anyway. It might have taken longer, maybe been harder, but you would have managed it eventually.” Bofur smiled up at the cobwebbed ceiling. “We fucked you up, all your parents, but we also did right in as many ways as we could. You’re stubborn and strong and clever. You’ve got Kili cheerleading you along. Some things are inevitable.” 

“Do you really believe that? Like fate or whatever?” 

“Not fate.” He pushed upwards, fighting the dizziness and rested a hand on Fili’s shoulder. “Just...coming into yourself. Growing up. It’s a difficult thing.” 

“Yeah, I’m noticing. It kind of sucks.” Fili laughed. “When is it over?” 

“I have no goddamn idea.” Bofur laughed right along with him. “I’m still right in the thick of it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the rain keeps coming down, down, down.

The rain was still coming down the next morning, darkening the store into a cozy, marble filled cave. With no busy work to be found, Kili had taken up his guitar and kept Bofur company with mellow chords that sometimes resolved into songs. Bofur was disassembling one of the old ‘penguin climbs iceberg and then slides down’ toys he’d picked up at a flea market. He had a vague idea that if he figured out how it worked, he could replicate it with children climbing a hill instead. Maybe in fall colors. It’d look good in the window at least. 

For the first time in weeks, he saw a warmly familiar sight. Bilbo walked past the shop window shielded by a kelly green umbrella. He ducked inside, the bells clattering merrily away. 

“Couldn’t wait for dinner?” Bofur teased, coming around the counter. 

“I thought it best to make my apologies earlier rather than later.” The tip of Bilbo’s nose was flushed red from the rain’s chill. He held forth a cardboard beverage holder, two cups of tea steaming away. From the corner of his eye, Bofur saw Kili slip away into the backroom.

“Which ones?” Bofur plucked out the closest cup, the sweet scent of bergamot meeting his nose.

“Primarily the one for making you sound like something that can be bargained over.” 

“Except apparently I am.” Bofur pointed out. “He accepted and everything.” 

“I can’t actually tell if you’re angry.” Bilbo took out his own cup, casting the holder into the garbage in one neat toss. 

“I thought about it, but frankly I’m all out of emotional energy.” He admitted. “I probably should be furious that you engineered all that, just to score a point off of Thorin. Mad that you didn’t talk to me about any of it first.” 

“I didn’t do it just to score a point.” Bilbo corrected. “I did it for you. I know what Erebor means to you.” 

“Maybe it did once-” 

“I know it does.” Bilbo held up a hand. “You didn’t stay with him all those years and think he was on a wild goose chase the whole time. You told me once that you believed in the dream, even at the end.” 

“I did.” Bofur allowed. “But it was hardly as all consuming for me as it was for him.” 

“Maybe not, but you can’t say that the idea of having the Dains in control of Erebor again doesn’t give you some measure of satisfaction.”

“Of course it would!” He set the tea down on the counter. “They were truly robbed and it wrecked havoc on all of us. If it had stayed in Dain control, my entire life would have been...well. I don’t think better necessarily, but certainly quite different.” 

“So there you have it.” Bilbo shrugged. “It was something I could give you, in a way. Though really it’s not so much of an affair as I might have led on. A few phone calls should be enough. Smaug’s only gotten away with it this long because he was bribing local officials. Once it goes international, the litigation nightmares will begin immediately.” 

“How long were you researching this?” 

“Oh, I picked at it here and there before Frodo came to stay. I had to let it lie a while, but once Thorin announced his unwelcome arrival, the timing seemed all too perfect.” 

"That's a long time." 

"I've cared for you for longer than that." 

“Hm. All right, answer me another question.” 

“Anything.” Bilbo had the good grace to look slightly worried. 

“Did you really get hit by a student at random in front of my shop?” 

“I did!” Bilbo protested with a laugh. “Honestly. I had no idea the proprietor of this charming store was so attractive until you came to the rescue.” 

“I had to be sure. This new conniving side to you is troubling.” Bofur picked his tea back up. “I’ll have to watch myself.” 

“Conniving is such an ugly word.” Bilbo sighed. “What about clever?” 

“You already know you’re clever. No need to stuff your ego full to bursting.” 

They drank their tea together, leaning against the glass counter and watching the rain. 

“I’m thinking of going to therapy.” Bofur said between thoughtful sips. 

“Why on earth?” Bilbo frowned. “Because of what I did?” 

“Nothing to do with you.” He rubbed idly at the stubble on his chin. “Well, maybe a little in a roundabout way. Its like I said, I don’t want to make the same mistakes again. And I think...I think there’s things I haven’t faced that I have to deal with to prevent it.” 

“If you say so.” 

“What? Not fond of therapists?” 

“The words ‘impulsive’ and ‘controlling’ have come up more than once.” Bilbo fiddled with the string of his tea bag. “I’m not fond of being diagnosed.” 

“Impulsive? You?” 

“What else would you call ambushing you yesterday?” Bilbo challenged. “And I used to be much more...impetuous, I suppose. I’ve matured since my last session.”

“How old were you?” 

“Eighteen? Right after my mother died. I was deemed to be going through a depressive episode. Two years later I was running amok through Brazil and happy as a clam. I didn’t need therapy. I needed to stretch my legs a little.” 

“I’m almost forty. A little different than a teenager. “ He reached out, cupping the back of Bilbo’s neck. “I just think its time for me to sort out who I’ve become.” 

“Far be it from me to stop you.” Bilbo leaned into the touch. 

“When you were sixteen, where did you think you’d be at thirty-five?” 

“At sixteen? Hm. I thought I’d be writing world renowned poetry and I’d live three houses down from my mother.” Bilbo snorted. “My poetry was the worst kind of doggerel. I burned it when I moved out of my parent’s house. What about you?” 

“I thought I’d be living in Haifa. I’d just come back from staying with my father for a month and I thought it was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.” He’d spent the summer running wild with his brothers, glorying in the dry heat and the long stretch of beach. “I was going to be an inventor. I took apart every clock and toaster I could get my hands on. I was a lanky mess, all eyebrows and this terrible buzzcut.” 

“I was small and spotty.” Bilbo turned, letting Bofur’s hand slip from neck to waist. “I probably would’ve had a terrible crush on you. I liked tall boys who worked with their hands.” 

“I would’ve been too embarrassed to talk to you.” He flushed at the memories alone. “I was terrified of anything even coming close to flirting. Shy as all get out. Bifur used to do all my talking. Then there was the accident and I had to be his mouthpiece.” 

“I can’t imagine you as a wallflower.” 

“And I couldn’t picture you in a fedora with a whip on your hip until yesterday. Look at all the things we’re discovering about each other.” 

“Ugh.” Bilbo buried his face in Bofur’s shirt front. “You have no idea how played out the Indiana jokes are in archaeology. No idea.” 

“You’ve thought about it.” 

“Haven’t.” Bilbo protested, muffled against Bofur’s chest. 

“I will give you ten dollars if you can look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you’ve never tipped a fedora over your eyes in the mirror. None of this 'I prefer a nice straw hat' bullshit.” Bofur waited, but only silence followed. “I win.” 

“Ugh. Once or twice maybe. It’s Harrison Ford!” 

“I watched Return of the Jedi on loop for about three weeks when I was going through that awkward phase.” He patted Bilbo condescendingly on the back. “It happens to all of us.” 

“You’re awful.” 

“I meant to ask, does the morning apology tea mean I’m not getting my apology dinner?” 

“No, it means that dinner is no longer an apology.” Bilbo pushed back enough to look Bofur in the eye. “If you’ve accepted the apology, of course.” 

“I never really got an ‘I’m sorry’, actually.” 

“Well.” Bilbo stretched up on his toes to give Bofur the kind of kiss that usually led to some promising groping. “I’m sorry, my dear.” 

“Accepted.” Bofur leaned in, attempting to get seconds, but Bilbo was already collecting his umbrella. Bofur hitched a finger into Bilbo’s belt loops. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’ve classes to prepare for.” Bilbo laughingly slipped out of his grip. “Undergraduates return next week to plague me for another semester. And there’s my long suffering graduate assistants, doubtless praying I’ll take a run at their latest attempts at thesis ideas. Don’t you have a store to run?” 

“Ugh.” Bofur reached for him again. “Can’t we play hooky? It’s miserable out. Good day to curl up and forget real life.” 

“August rain, the best of summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.” Bilbo gave in, bestowed another kiss. 

“Who is that?” 

“Sylvia Plath. Melancholy soul, but I think she’s right.” The umbrella tapped restlessly against the floor. “Though it’s been an odd uneven summer. Perhaps autumn will provide much needed mundanity.” 

“Amen to that.” Bofur caged him against the door, stealing kiss after kiss until Bilbo gave a muffled protest. “Dinner at seven.” 

“Mmm.” Bilbo smiled, slow and wicked as the door opened soundlessly behind him. “Until then.” 

Then the shop was quiet. Empty. The long threat of autumn stood outside the doors. A sweeping wave of sadness washed over him, so deep and sudden that he could barely stand it, let alone explain it. 

“Is it safe to come out now?” Kili called. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bofur called back and the wave retreated as rapidly as it had come on. He wasn’t alone here anymore. For better or for worse, his life was cluttered with people once more. 

“It’s not ridiculous!” Kili came out, guitar in hand and a too wide grin on his face. “The two of you are a bantering black hole.” 

“Since I have no idea what that means, I choose not to be insulted.” 

“Can you choose to find me something to do then?” Kili asked. “I mean, I don’t want to complain, but I’m getting some really intense boredom going.” 

The streets outside were empty. This late in August, the tourists had melted away and the students hadn’t yet returned. They’d be lucky to get a small handful of customers. 

“Let’s go see a movie.” He decided. 

“Seriously?” 

“Its either that or we play card games all afternoon and I know which one I’d prefer.” 

“Awesome!” Kili practically exploded with instant giddiness, rushing around performing all the usual closing rituals while Bofur watched in bemusement. “There’s this action thing that I really wanted to see. Oh! Or that other one. With the war or whatever.” 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, you realize that?” 

“Oh, you know! With the guy with the weird hair!” 

“How about we just walk to the theater and decide. If you agree to see something with minimal explosions, I’ll spring for popcorn.” 

The only thing playing at eleven in the morning turned out to be a kid's movie. They settled in the back, away from the few young families clustered in the center trying to manage toddlers. The movie was cute enough, Bofur supposed, though hardly riveting. 

“Can I tell you something?” Kili asked in a hush, barely audible over the movies raucous soundtrack. 

“Of course.” Bofur kept his eyes on the screen, watching the animation speed by. 

“I’m still scared of the dark sometimes.” 

“Should I have brought a flashlight?” 

“Not like that.” Kili sounded deadly serious. “Its just....everyone thinks I don’t think things through. That I don’t worry. But I do. When it’s dark and quiet. I think about everything that’s coming. What I’ve asked Fili to give up for me. All of it. Not just Erebor. I worry about us, if we don’t make it. I worry about what it all says about me that I can’t picture my life without him. Sometimes its if I’m going to hell or if there’s anyone up there even paying attention.” 

“You aren’t going to hell.” Bofur said firmly. 

“How do you know?” Kili sank down in his seat. “I’m deviant and not repentant about it. I’ve tried to be sorry. Tried not to...I waited a year. Went out with a dozen girls, even more guys. Everything. But I can’t even...it’s only him for me. If I was God, I’d smote me.” 

“I don’t pretend to understand it.” A furry critter exploded into song before them. “But I’ll tell you that I always prefer to believe in good over evil. Whatever you and Fili do, its not hurting anyone else. And maybe...” 

“What?” Kili pressed. “Maybe what?” 

“Maybe things happen for a reason.” Bofur ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, looking for the right words. “Life is this complicated puzzle. A tangled up slinky. Except we don’t know what solution to look for or what shape it was meant to be in, so its frustrating and exhausting and lonely. We spend a lot of time seeking out other people that will help us. Way I see it, you and Fili never needed to look far. 

“When you were nine and he was eleven, I took you to that park down the street from our flat. I brought a book and turned you both loose. Wasn’t until I reached the end of the damn thing that I realized I hadn’t heard a peep out of either of you in an hour or more. I panicked, but I shouldn’t have bothered. I found you tucked up under a play structure, building this elaborate sand castle. Someone had bloodied your nose on the slide, but I wouldn’t have known if there hadn’t been a spot of blood on your shirt. Fili just took care of it with a napkin he had in his pocket and you’d distracted him from telling me with the sandcastle. You knew he wanted to stay out in the sun and we might have to go home if I found out.” 

“I remember that.” Kili said with some surprise. “I got water from the fountain to keep the sand wet. Ran back and forth with it dripping between my fingers.” 

“I don’t know if I’d even remember it at all if it wasn’t for the last bit.” Bofur did turn to Kili, finding his eyes glittering in the dark. “That night, I told you a bedtime story about a prince who loved a beautiful princess and had to fight a great dragon to save her. Usual fairy tale mishmash. What I remember though is that you smiled at me at the end and said, ‘I’ll be the prince and Fili will be my princess and I’ll build him a castle’. I laughed a bit, couldn’t help it, you were so earnest. And Fili gave me such a look and said, ‘I’d live anywhere Kili built me, even if I had to wear a stupid dress’.” 

“He didn’t.” Kili gaped. 

“I swear he did.” Bofur picked up a bit of popcorn, chewing it into submission. “Maybe he stopped up your bloody nose and offered to wear the dress, but you built him sandcastles and made him a future he couldn’t see for himself. I spent ten years with your Uncle and never had the kind of devotion and understanding between us that you two had before you hit puberty. I can’t see that kind of love as evil, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me.” 

“Really?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this.” 

“Ok.” Kili sucked in a breath and let it out shakily. “That’s...that’s really good to know.” 

“You know, this is just a stray bit of advice,” Bofur grabbed a handful of popcorn, “you and Fili should talk about the things you think about in the dark. Both of you.” 

“He doesn’t need me adding to-” 

“He does. He thinks he’s suffering alone, you think you’re being stoic. I’ve been there, all right? Just...talk to each other. It’ll be worth it in the end, even if its hard.” 

Afterwards, Bofur couldn’t recall a single detail of the movie, but he did remember how Kili had looked when they left, turning his face up to the rain with curious blend of hope and fear. When Fili came home, Kili only shot Bofur a quick, testing look then took Fili by the hand and led him up the stairs. 

A text vibrated through Bofur’s shorts before he could think to much about that. He took it out of his pocket and thumbed the message open with a grin, 

_Unsure how to make meatloaf adventurous. Experimentation has failed. Called for take out at the Chinese place. Can you pick it up?_

Bofur texted back rapidly,

 _Anything on fire? I’ll get extra duck sauce. Love you._

It wasn’t what Bofur dreamed of at sixteen, fetching cooling Chinese food in the rain, but it was exactly what he wanted now.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years and a few months later.

What had started out as as a few mellow flakes had become a near blinding fall of snow. Bofur wedged his hat further down over his ears and sank his hands deeper into his pockets. The curl of smoke rising from the chimney warmed him before he even managed to fumble his key into the lock and swing open the cottage door. Warm air drifted out, calling him inside along with the enticing smell of simmering onions. He sat down and pulled off his soaking boots to drip dry on the rug next to three other discarded pairs, then followed the sounds of animated conversation into the kitchen. 

Frodo and Fili were pressed in tight on one bench of the kitchen table, books spread at before them. On Fili’s side were heavy texts weighted down with complicated formulas and rough sketches. Bofur understood more of them than he’d counted on. As it turned out his casual background in tinkering had translated to some basic understanding of engineering. Even now with Fili in the first semester of his masters, Bofur sometimes sat down with him and listened to his explanations of this principle or that formula. The impromptu education did them both some good. 

Today though, the focus was less on load bearing walls and more on geometry as Fili leaned to make a few delicate pencil marks on Frodo’s notebook. 

“Do you see now?” Fili tapped the page. 

“Sort of.” Frodo nearly disappeared at Fili’s side, still small and delicate for his age. “But I still don’t understand why that gives us the circumference of a circle. Why pi? Why not any other number?” 

“If you want to get into the theory of it, we’ll be here all night.” Fili tousled Frodo’s dark curls. “For now, its better to just know that it does.” 

“I hate math.” Frodo grumped. 

“You hate math homework.” Bilbo corrected from the stove, stirring a mash of ground beef and onions. “Math itself is a singularly useful tool in understanding the universe.” 

“Except we don’t even understand pi or circles or whatever.” Frodo wrinkled his nose. “Anyway, I’m never going to use geometry.” 

“You don’t know that.” Fili turned back to his own work. “What if you have to cut down a tree in your backyard and you have to figure out if it will fall on your house?” 

“Ugh.” Frodo sank his face into his arms. 

“You’ll live.” Fili diagnosed.

“Shepherd's Pie?” Bofur asked hopefully, sliding in behind Bilbo and settling a kiss at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re freezing!” Bilbo yipped, trying to get away without setting himself on fire. 

“It’s snowing.” Bofur grinned and drew him closer. “Mmm. Warm.” 

“Gross.” Frodo groaned, not even looking up from his pose of despair on the table. 

“Get off of me and go warm yourself up. Really, my dear.” 

“Nope.” Bofur grinned into the soft skin of Bilbo’s neck. “I’m fine here.” 

“Off.” The elbow wasn’t hard, but it made a very clear point. “There’s some mail for you on the front table.” 

“Bills. Fantastic.” He poured himself a glass of water before shuffling back into the hall. The little table was actually covered in credit card applications and other detritus that they hadn’t gotten around to throwing out. There were two envelopes addressed to him, but the first was obviously junk that he just cast it aside. 

The other... 

“Did you look at this?” He called back. 

“Frodo brought the mail in!” Bilbo shouted back. 

Bofur ran his thumb of the return address then ran his fingernail down the side, slicing it neatly open. The paper he drew out was thick and official look, a paperclip holding a second, smaller piece of paper to it. He read through in once quickly then for a second time more slowly, letting the meaning sink in. The slip was a check. 

“Are you alright?” Bilbo ducked his head around the wall. “You’ve been standing there for ages.” 

“Look.” He passed the letter and check over to him. 

“Well, you knew it was coming.” Bilbo said as soon as he’d scanned the letter. 

“I never really let myself believe it though. Do you see the number on there?” 

“You’re a wealthy man.” The check looked so small, hanging limp in Bilbo’s hand. “Perhaps I should marry you after all. Be a trophy wife.” 

Bofur didn’t rise to the joke, still stuck on the letter with Thorin’s neat signature on the bottom. Thorin had tried to talk him into coming aboard the company like some of the others in the family had, but Bofur had accepted the buyout offer instead. Though greatly diminished, even one-fourteenth of Erebor’s wealth was still a number he could live on for the rest of his life if he wasn’t extravagant about it. He’d already committed to paying for the rest of Fili and Kili’s education. Born after the company’s theft, the boys weren’t directly entitled to anything. It wasn’t quite disinheriting, but no one seemed in a rush to provide for them either. 

“It’s all over.” He shook his head. “Erebor is reclaimed. I can’t quite get my head around it.” 

“Then don’t.” Bilbo handed him back the letter and rubbed a hand over Bofur’s arm. “Just be happy and tomorrow we’ll deposit that, work out some long term investments.”

The front door opened, letting in a swirl of snow. Kili practically fell inside, the wind pushing hard at his back. Snow dotted his dark hair, eyelashes and the scarf he’d wound around the lower half of his face. 

“What’s everyone doing in the hallway?” He asked around a mouthful of cotton. 

“Check finally came in.” Bilbo said lightly, turning back the way he came. “Come into the kitchen when you’ve thawed out. Dinner’s nearly ready.” 

“Shepard’s Pie?” Kili perked up. 

“Looks like.” Bofur tucked the check away. “How was your day?” 

“There you are.” Fili pushed passed Bofur in the hall, already reaching to brush snow from Kili’s hair. “Why didn’t you call if you were going to be so late?” 

“I was talking to my adviser.” Kili ducked his head, letting Fili manhandle him out of his coat. “He might be able to get me into the psychology class that I wanted if someone drops.” 

“That’d be good.” Fili said absently, unwinding Kili’s scarf. “What about the term paper?” 

“Oh that.” Kili glanced up, checking for curious curly haired boys and finding none, brushed a kiss over Fili’s lips. “Aced it.” 

“Dinner’s on soon.” Bofur reminded them, before heading back into the kitchen.

As far as he knew, he was still the only person privy to the full extent of their relationship. Bilbo might have guessed by now, but if so, he kept his own counsel about it. They’d started experimenting with friends off campus, presenting themselves as lovers without any hint of their actual relationship. It was a dangerous game and Bofur had lost more than one night’s sleep worrying for them. 

Merry and Pippin tangled around Bofur’s feet as he got down plates, leaving a trail of cat hair behind. 

“I’m going to sell you both to the circus.” He told them, smiling to himself when Frodo stifled a laugh. 

“They were here before you.” Bilbo said mildly. “Frodo, get out the silverware.” 

“Fili!” Bofur started shutting books and shifting them into piles. “Come get your stuff before I dump it onto the floor.” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He charged in, sweeping up his texts and slotting them back into his messenger bag. “Did you hear? Kili got an A on that paper. Brings his GPA up quite a bit.” 

“Not that much.” Kili added just one too many bodies to the kitchen and now they were all edging around each other, trying not to get scalded as Bilbo took a heavy pan out of the oven. “I’m still edging around a 3.0.” 

“It was good work.” Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. “Now get those long legs of yours out of the way. Everyone not serving needs to sit.” 

There was a knock at the door. 

“Who could that be?” Bilbo frowned. 

“I’ll find out. Don’t finish off dinner without me, bottomless pits.” 

He had to dodge the growing puddle from too many shoes to reach the door. He opened it cautiously, dodging the first blitz of snow attempting to crawl into the house. A small round figure stuffed into a coat and knitted cap stood at the door. 

“Oh!” The figure rocked a little. “Hi, Mr. Bofur.” 

“Sam! What are you doing here?” 

“Oh. I...uh, I thought Gaffer called Mr. Baggins?” Sam backed away a little. “Only he’s stuck at work with the snow, but I told him I was fine. Really. I didn’t mean to be any...I’ll just go..” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bofur drew the boy into the house. “Bilbo! Did Mr. Gamgee call you?” 

“What?” Bilbo called back, the rattle of conversation drowning them both out. 

“I don’t want to be any trouble. I told him I could make myself some dinner, really.” Sam was saying. 

“Is that Sam?” Frodo skidded across the wood floors in his socks. 

“Hello, Frodo.” Poor Sam turned the color of a tomato. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.” 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Frodo beamed at him. “We haven’t started eating and anyway, I’m really glad you’re here. I wanted to tell you all about this book I found today and I didn’t see you after lunch.” 

“It’s a B schedule day. You never see me after lunch on B days.” Sam reminded him, then glanced up at Bofur. “I really am sorry, sir.” 

“We’re happy to have you, Sam. Hang up your wet things and we’ll go shuffle around the table.” 

“Gaffer did call.” Bilbo said as soon as Bofur was back in the kitchen. “I had my cell in the bedroom. He asked if we could look after Sam tonight.” 

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I think the boys can make the walk back to the flat, so we’ll still have the guest room.” 

“You’re making us go home in that?” Kili pouted. “It’s freezing!” 

“Your face will freeze like that.” Frodo informed him, shoving back into his seat and making room for Sam beside him. 

“It’s a ten minute walk. I think we’ll survive.” Fili laughed at Kili’s mock horror at such a betrayal. “Anyway, we’ve got the next season of that terrible show you like in our Netflix queue. Wouldn’t want to miss that.” 

“Here you go, Sam.” Bilbo gave him a large serving. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear the phone.” 

“It’s ok. Really. I’m sorry-” 

“We’re a very sorry bunch today.” Bofur laughed. “How about we just have some dinner?” 

With the added preteen stomach, the Shepard’s Pie disappeared in fairly short order. Dessert was a pile of fresh baked scones that Bilbo had hidden in one of the low cupboards. Still chewing on his last bite, Fili got up from the table and started packing away the last of things. 

“Going so soon?” Bilbo lamented. “You know, I was rather enjoying the unexpected party.” 

“I don’t want to get stuck slogging through all those extra feet of snow.” Fili pointed to the window where the snow had already gathered an inch thing on the sill. “Later we wait, the harder it’ll be to get home.” 

“Sam can sleep in my room.” Frodo piped up. “I don’t mind.” 

“The two of you will be up to all hours if you share a room.” Bilbo looked at Frodo sternly. “I won’t have you falling asleep in class again.” 

“It’s bound to be a snow day tomorrow.” Kili, clearly seeing a way to avoid going back into the cold pointed out. “They said on the radio it’ll keep going through the night. A foot and a half at least.” 

“We’ll go to bed when you say. Honest.” Frodo added in. 

“What do you think, my dear?” Bilbo turned to Bofur. 

“Oh, why not? It’s already a sleepover, might as well do it the right way.” 

“Yes!” Frodo punched the air in triumph. “Come on, Sam. Let’s find the sleeping bag.” 

“We’ll do the dishes then.” Fili set down his bag. “I need the table back to finish some of these problem sets.” 

“I’ve got crafts to prep for my internship. Probably should study for that sociology test too.” Kili started gathering plates. “Can we have the kitchen?” 

“If you’re doing the dishes, its all yours.” Bilbo pushed away from the table. “I’ve got some work to do in my study.” 

“I’ll keep an ear out for mischief.” Bofur picked up the mystery he’d been paging through and went to settle himself by the fire. 

There was something different about the cottage when it was packed to the gills with people. Aside from a few giddy laughs from Frodo’s bedroom or quiet murmurs from the kitchen, there wasn’t much extra noise really. Maybe it was just the dozy warmth of the flames or the hush of the snow covering the earth outside. Just some intrinsic thing in the air that gave it a homey, full feeling. 

The book stayed forgotten by the side table as he watched the flames and relished the evening’s calm and company. Bilbo came to join him after another hour or so, ink stains on his fingers. He took the opposite chair, putting his feet up next to Bofur’s on the overstuffed ottoman. Despite the faint chill, Bilbo feet were bare and Bofur couldn’t help, but run his own sock clad toes up and down the naked sole. 

“I’m going to plant a cherry blossom trees in the spring.” Bofur told him. “Right by our bedroom window. It looks like pink snow when they shed their flowers.”

“Keep a bit of winter into the spring?” Bilbo smiled. “Then come spring, you’ll be telling me that you can’t remember how we survived the cold. You always like the first snow best, then its all downhill from there.” 

“Probably because I haven’t shoveled anything yet.” 

“What are you reading?” 

“No idea. Started it a week ago and I can’t keep a word of it in my head.” He stretched a little further. “How about you just read me whatever it is you’ve got on hand.” 

“Boring academic text.” 

“Don’t care.” 

Bilbo fished around in the haphazard stack of texts next to his chair and came up with a slim volume that didn’t look at all like a boring academic text. 

“Now then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the story, we will know more than we know now, but to begin.” It was the professorial voice that Bilbo used when he read that Bofur had come to love in the lulling hours before sleep. There was a sonorous depth that crept in, a fullness of feeling that Bilbo didn’t have the rest of the time. Hypnotic and rich, Bofur often could see the images clearly rising before him. “Once upon a time, there was a wicked sprite.”

As if they had caught the scent of a story in the air, Frodo and Sam arrived on quiet feet, piling together on the hearth rug. Sam especially looked rapt, leaning in as Bilbo went on. 

“In a large town, where there are so many houses, and so many people, that there is no roof left for everybody to have a little garden; and where, on this account, most persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden somewhat larger than a flower–pot. They were not brother and sister; but they cared for each other as much as if they were.” 

Kili eased in next, crossing his arms over the back of Bofur’s chair as if he only intended to stay a moment or two. He smelled of glue and finger paints. 

“The snow–flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side; the large sledge stopped, and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and cap were of snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling whiteness. It was the Snow Queen.

"We have traveled fast," said she; "but it is freezingly cold. Come under my bearskin." And she put him in the sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a snow–wreath.

"Are you still cold?" asked she; and then she kissed his forehead. Ah! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump; it seemed to him as if he were about to die—but a moment more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not remark the cold that was around him.” 

Frodo put another log on the fire, the snap and crackle of heat welcome as the story unfolded. Bilbo went on, describing the Snow Queen’s terrible palace and the chips of ice that became lodged inside of Kay. Gerda began her quest to look for her friend that everyone else believed to be dead and gone. Her friend the Raven pleaded on her behalf to one of the mysterious women they met, 

"’But can you give little Gerda nothing to take which will endow her with power over the whole?’  
‘I can give her no more power than what she has already. Don't you see how great it is? Don't you see how men and animals are forced to serve her; how well she gets through the world barefooted? She must not hear of her power from us; that power lies in her heart, because she is a sweet and innocent child! If she cannot get to the Snow Queen by herself, and rid little Kay of the glass, we cannot help her.’ "

At last Fili joined them and he came to rest at Bofur’s feet. For the briefest of moments, he was ten years old again to Bofur’s eyes, a small blond head, serious blue eyes and dirt lodged uner his fingernails. Bilbo described the rest of little Gerda’s perilous journey and all the strange characters she met in her quest, all the love she gave and had returned to her. And at last when that weary traveller found her beloved companion locked up in ice, 

“Hereupon Kay burst into tears; he wept so much that the splinter rolled out of his eye, and he recognised her and held her fast.” Bilbo ran his fingers down the page, his own smile as warm and joyful as the one Bofur imagined on Gerda’s face. “It was so beautiful, that even the blocks of ice danced about for joy; and when they were tired and laid themselves down, they formed exactly the letters which the Snow Queen had told him to find out; so now he was his own master, and he would have the whole world and a pair of new skates into the bargain.” 

The snapping closed of the book broke the spell of silence. 

“Can you imagine Gerda doing all that just to get Kay back?” Frodo shook his head. 

“She loved him.” Sam looked a little dreamy eyed. “That’s what you do when you really love someone.” 

“It does take a certain dedication.” Bilbo winked at Bofur. “But don’t think you have to prove your feelings by a tromp in the wilderness, Sam.” 

“Well, it’s not really the walk though, is it?” Sam sat up a little straighter. “It’s just a story right? It sort of means something else. Like um...”

“A metaphor.” Offered Frodo. 

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “One of those.” 

“So what do you think it means?” Bilbo encouraged. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Working hard?” Sam bit at his lip. “Not giving up on someone no matter what.” 

“No matter what the world tells you.” Fili added, tipping back his head to catch Kili’s gaze. 

“Even if its hard and you have to do it barefoot.” Kili said softly.

“Love is kind of complicated, isn’t it? I think I’ll avoid it.” Declared Frodo. 

“I don’t know.” Sam looked down at his hands. “Might be worth it.” 

“Come on, Sam.” Fili got to his feet. “I put up hot water for cocoa. Help me mix it for everyone?” 

“Ok.” Sam clamored to his feet, always happy in a task. 

Frodo flopped back on the rug and Kili went to sit beside him, chattering about the television show Fili had mentioned. 

“Scholars say Hans Christian Anderson fell in love with a man. There’s a love letter and everything. The Little Mermaid was written after he was rejected.” Bilbo put the book to his lips thoughtfully. “I’ve often wondered if the Snow Queen was something like that too. Gerda journeys, proves her endurance and her love and rescues the boy she loves from a cruel mistress. Wish fulfillment.” 

“Maybe.” Bofur licked his lips. “If it is, it’s not such a bad wish.” 

“No,” Bilbo smiled at him, sweet and slow. “It’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me. It's meant the world to me and sped my writing up considerably. If you're interested in following my fic, you can always follow me on tumblr where I go by dragonmuse. 
> 
> If you want to follow my new original project, come visit: bleedingoutink.livejournal.com to find out more.


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